


Give Me Love

by zankiefanatic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Artist Mickey, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian, Biting, Boys Kissing, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gallavich, Gallavich AU, Hickeys, M/M, Mania, Mental Health Issues, Model Ian, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-07 15:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 146,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zankiefanatic/pseuds/zankiefanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mickey is an artist and Ian is a model and they do this weird thing where they fall in love super hard without all the shitty darkness of south side still being held over their heads. But love is never easy, so they have to learn to be an actual couple as best they can. The question is how badly can they fuck it up and still keep going?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nude Modeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The artist in Mickey noticed all the different things he could do with that body on a canvas, but the gay in Mickey noticed all the things he could do with that body on a bed.

Mickey liked art. All kinds of art whether it was painting or sketches or making something out of nothing with a clump of clay. It was the only thing he was ever good at (that was legal anyway), and he managed to make something out of it. Living in the South side didn’t lean itself to this particular set of skills, so everything he did was self-taught, but he was good enough for people to pay attention, good enough to get out. And he did the first chance he got, taking Mandy along with him, because she was the only to ever give a shit. So they packed up everything and moved into a shitty shoebox of an apartment in NYC, thinking that if they could just get somewhere stable it would all work out.

It wasn’t easy at first. Not at all. They struggled each month to make rent and to afford Mickey’s art supplies on top of that. Slowly but surely, though, their luck started to change. It started with Mandy getting a promotion at the bar she was working at, which came with a beautiful three dollar raise per hour, plus tips as usual. Then Mickey sold a painting. Then it was a drawing, and someone requested that he make something for them. He began to build a cliental; people contacted him to create shit because they thought he was **_good._** Soon enough he didn’t need some shitty job that was going nowhere. He could make a living off of something that made him happy.

 In dragging spaces of time they got better, and they created this little life for themselves that neither of them would’ve ever imagined that they could have. It was amazing how Mickey would be sitting down doing nothing and just smile to himself, because he finally had something to smile about.

“What do you think of like nude modeling though?” Mandy asked one day.

Mickey was sitting on the couch doing a sketch of a picture a client sent him when she asked, and the question was abnormal enough to make him stop drawing.

“Who you show your tits to doesn’t concern me.” He muttered trying to refocus his attention on the page before him.

“Not me you shitstain. I mean like having a nude model come in and draw them? Or paint them or whatever the fuck it is you do all day.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because someone fucking requested it Mick. You got an email from some weird ass low grade exhibit. They want naked stuff though. Said they even supply the models. I’m sure they could find you a nice dick to draw too.” She smirked.

He chucked his pencil at her head not at all satisfied with the dull thud it made.

“Shut the fuck up will you?” He paused keeping his eyes on the page. “How much they paying?”

“Two hundred. They got some interest in your stuff, wanna see what you got going on. If they like what you do the first time, they said it could become a regular thing. This could be good for you. It’s a steady gig, and you’ll be able to expand your supplies like you’ve been wanting to right?”

He shrugged. “Yea… Yea okay I guess it’s worth a shot. It’s something I’ve never done before that’s for sure.”

“Great cause I already said yes for you.” She grinned. “You’ve got a meeting there at noon tomorrow. They want you to try drawing someone I think.” 

“Hand me my pencil will ya?” He asked.

She did only for him to hit her square in the forehead with it once again.

“Goddammit Mickey!”

He laughed hopping off the couch to avoid his sister’s fist coming into contact with his jaw.

Regardless Mickey woke up the next day and headed to the address Mandy had left out for him. He didn’t say it to his sister at the time, but he felt an odd sense of humbleness from the offer to draw something for any exhibit, big or small. The buzz that he’d generated was very underground and small, yet he’d learned over the years to appreciate himself a little more, something that was nearly impossible to do back in Chicago. The offer reminded him of how far he’d come and the hard work and dedication that it took to get that far. He didn’t walk in there with his head up his own ass like some artists probably would’ve. He was….thankful. A trait not often attributed to a Milkovich that’s for damn sure.

“Mickey right? I’m Jane I spoke to your wonderful assistant over the phone thank you for coming on such short notice!” The energetic woman greeted Mickey. “Please sit, sit.”

He attempted to hide the smirk creeping up on his face at the idea of Mandy being his assistant as she led him to a seat.

Mickey took a seat keeping his hands under the table in front of him. It was something he did out of habit, to keep people from seeing his tattoos and immediately labeling him as trash. Nothing says I’m a professional like Fuck U-Up across your knuckles. He’d thought about getting them removed a couple of times, but it was still a part of him whether he liked that part or not.

“So here’s the deal we’ve got an exhibit coming up next month and we’re in desperate need of some new pieces. It’s going to feature artists like yourself who are somewhat unknown, yet have created a following for themselves. The exhibit will of course feature the human body in all forms. The models we’ve chosen are all drastically different, and we would love it if you could just take the model and create. We don’t want to limit or hinder you in anyway; you make what you make and we’ll pick our favorites to go in the exhibit.” She smiled cheerfully.

Mickey bit his lip. “This would be over the course of a month?”

“Yes would that be a problem?”

“N—No it’s just that . . . my art is kind of how I’m making my living right now and I’ve got clients that give me deadlines as well. And well the price that my sister, I mean my assistant, told me... look two hundred bucks ain’t gonna keep the lights on for a month.” He said bluntly.

“Oh maybe I wasn’t clear over the phone. We’ll pay you two hundred for each piece.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Each piece?”

“Yes. Um for every piece that you complete we will pay two hundred. Does that make sense?”

“Well hell where do I sign?” He smirked.

She gave a little giggle. “Wow, yay let me get you the paper work. And Ian should be here any minute.”

“Ian?”

“Oh yes; Ian will be your model. Your assistant alerted me that you’d be more comfortable with a male model for this particular exhibit.”

Fucking Mandy. Mickey had to remind himself not to go off like he used to. Not to use every cuss word in the book for his obnoxious ass sister who couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut to save her life. Like he needed a dick in his face all day to keep him distracted, like that was really gonna make things so much better. Worst case scenario it’s a nice dick and his canvas just ends up with a giant dick on it. Best case scenario it’s not a nice dick and he just sits there drawing this dude wishing it was a nice dick. Both ways he’s fucked and thinking about dick all thanks to his sister.

In the middle of looking over the paper work and concocting his evil plan to get back at his sister the door burst open and revealed a panting figure bent over trying to catch their breath.

“Sorry! Sorry just….subway…late…so sorry!” He gasped.

“It’s okay I was just finishing up the paper work. This is the artist; Mickey meet Ian Gallagher your muse for the next month.”

Mickey turned in time to see him standing up to his full height. He was tall, significantly taller than mickey with bright red hair sprouting out from the top of his head. The artist in Mickey noticed all the different things he could do with that body on a canvas, but the gay in Mickey noticed all the things he could do with that body on a bed. He was hot. Unnecessarily and inexcusably hot. The pale skin and the jawline sharp and defined without looking ridiculous. He had lips that Mickey wanted to do beautiful and terrible things to all at once and Mickey stared at them way too long, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“Hi…” Ian murmured a lopsided grin forming on his stupidly beautiful face. “I’m your muse.”

His voice. The look on his face. Mickey had a feeling this guy was going to be the end of him. He needed to get a grip. And fast.

“Yea, yea, yea follow me firecrotch we got work to do.” Mickey answered turning back to the safety of his boss. “You want me to send in rough cuts or just the finished stuff?”

“Uh how about we set a date closer to opening night to see where you’re at. I’ll be in touch.” She smiled.

Mickey nodded heading towards the exit without another glance in Ian’s direction. He was suddenly very grateful that he was the artist and not the subject already feeling a familiar tightness in the groin of his jeans. Jesus how was he going to spend a month with this kid? They walked in silence Ian matching Mickey’s quick heavy strides with his long and graceful ones. Ian wanted to talk, to know the guy he’d be so insanely intimate with, but the guy seemed so distant and cold all of sudden. He couldn’t help but think maybe seeing his dick would a put a little fire under Mickey’s ass. He laughed at the thought earning a side glance from Mickey that lapsed him back into silence.

They arrived at Mickey’s apartment a few blocks later and Mickey prayed he could keep himself together. He was gonna be looking at this dude naked for hours after all; he wanted to be professional, respectful. It was just gonna take a little more work than it would have if there was a vagina involved.

“Oh your back where’s your . . . Damn. I mean…holy fuck you’re hot.” Mandy exclaimed.

So much for being professional.

Ian just chuckled. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I’m Ian by the way.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “This is my horned out sister who can’t keep it in her fucking pants to save her life.”

Mandy reached to slap her brother upside the head.

“Fuck Mandy!” He hissed.

“Anywayyyyy do I get to see you naked?”

Ian was immensely amused by the sibling bickering in front of him.

“I don’t mind. It might mess with your brother’s artistic abilities though. I’m also gay so…”

Mandy immediately threw her head back and whined to the gods for not giving her a break. Mickey was looking Ian over like he had to memorize every facet of his body right then and there. He just barely managed to not lick his lips. It wasn’t too often that Mickey saw a guy that good looking and was lucky enough that he happened to be gay too. He was getting paid to make art with this hot dude as his muse. Things were definitely going to get interesting.

“Come on man we can work in my studio. Less eyes to ogle your junk in there.” Mickey said directing him towards the spare room he’d converted when he and Mandy moved.

“Yes only one pair of eyes now huh Mick?”

He promptly raised his middle finger in the air closing them in the room together.

“So uh . . . what do you wanna do to me?”

Mickey almost choked on his own tongue. “W—what?”

That grin from earlier came back to the redhead’s beautiful lips. “The art work? Is there a position you want me in? You gonna paint or draw or photography maybe? You want my ass or my front?”

“The fuck you asking so many questions for man? Just take your clothes off and we’ll figure out the rest from there.” Mickey shrugged.

Mickey tried to pretend that he wasn’t eager to see what all the fuss was about. He took his time setting up his station, picking out the right paper and all the materials he would need. There wasn’t enough for him to look at though because he quickly ended up catching glimpses of the shedding of clothes. Ian had made it to his belt by the time Mickey stopped him.

“I wanna… I wanna draw your face first. We’ll get to the rest of you later.”

Ian smiled softly. “Okay.”

Drawing Ian was an interesting event to say the least. There was a lot of looking back and forth from the pad of paper and Ian’s face, and Mickey had never been so absorbed in a human being before. His bottom lip stayed squarely between his teeth the entire time trying to hide the emotions just waiting to bust out of him. Ian was lying down on the floor shirtless still, and more attractive than Mickey knew what to do with. Every time he would draw something he couldn’t help but imagine touching that part of Ian. His eyebrows. His nose. Those cheek bones. The Adam’s apple at the center of his throat begging to be traced with gentle finger tips, touched with lips that Mickey had. He’d never ached to touch someone like that before. His hands were tingling wanting to reach out and feel him; feel the things that the paper couldn't do justice.

Mickey licked his dry, chapped lips turning to look at Ian again, only this time a beautiful pair of eyes was staring back at him.

“What?” Mickey mumbled a little dazed.

Ian shrugged. “You’ve got really nice eyes is all.”

“Yea you do too.” He said before he could stop himself.

That lopsided thing came back to his face and Mickey could feel something tighten in his chest. All he wanted was to make Ian look that way all the time.

“Wait till you see the rest of me.” The model smirked in response.

“Hey man you’re the one that’s gonna have to keep your dick soft the entire time I wouldn’t worry too much about me.” Mickey chuckled trying to quickly sketch the grin on this stupidly gorgeous man’s face.

“You gonna give me something to make that difficult?”

Mickey’s pencil paused on the sheet, allowing him to look back at those green eyes so deep pure that it just didn’t make any sense.

They stared at each other the tension in the air too thick to go unnoticed another moment longer. The emotions running through Mickey’s body were things he had never felt before, at least not at the level at which they appeared now. It wasn’t about wanting and desire. It was about a need. A need to grip his pale and smooth body with his fingertips. The need to fuck and be fucked and to feel. Mickey would’ve liked to think that he could’ve resisted had it been a want, could’ve shoved his urges deep down inside like he’d done for such a large part of his life. But when the fear that had chased him didn’t come, didn’t paralyze him where he sat like it should’ve he remembered that it wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong. Fuck it.

He slid from his spot on his chair and kissed Ian with more enthusiasm than either of them could have expected. It started slow with the simple pressing of their lips over and over before Ian stepped up to the plate winding his fingers around Mickey’s neck and giving him everything that he so badly needed. Their tongues met twirling chaotically as they each began to inch closer to each other. It was messy from there on out. The struggle to get Mickey clothes off while still sucking on his tongue proved to be a feat that Ian could just barely conquer. In their quest to rip each other’s clothes off; they knocked over the easel, broke a pencil, and kicked a box of clay off the shelf behind them. It wasn’t easy but they managed.

“Where’s your stuff?” Ian huffed sucking his way across Mickey’s collarbone.

He moaned out whiny and desperate taking the time to get some air in his lungs before he responded.

“Fuck man I don’t keep lube and condoms in my studio. We’re gonna have to get up and go all the way across the hall without my nosy ass sister seeing.”

“I’ll run behind you so you can lead the way hurry up.” Ian mumbled kicking the older man in the leg impatiently.

“Jesus firecrotch you in rush to get on me that badly?” Mickey smirked standing up.

They cracked the door slowly looking for any sign of Mandy only to release huge sigh of relief when no one was in the living room. Ian pulled Mickey in for another kiss as they stumbled their way to his room only taking breaks to shed more clothes along the way. There was a smirk, that wouldn’t leave Mickey’s face till it was pounded out of him, appearing as the taller man shoved him roughly down on the bed. With a little direction he managed to get the lube and the condom out ripping at the foil package anxiously with his teeth.

“You need prep?” He whispered in Mickey’s ear his lips continuing to mark the pale body beneath him.

Mickey couldn’t help the grunt that came from his mouth or the way his hips jerked towards the ginger’s touch. He shook his head wanting to feel the burn of this man ripping into him for however long it took to satisfy their hunger for one another. In all honesty; he’d never felt that way about someone before. The passion that all but consumed him with its fiery embers was unusual to the artist. He didn’t have time to be patient while his asshole got used to being stretched when all he could think of was being filled with this man.

Ian ran his hands over Mickey’s ass pulling the cheeks apart and groaning a little at the thought of what they were about to do. When he didn’t move fast enough for his partner’s liking though, that ass began to jerk again.

“Come on you wanna fucking take a picture of it or fuck it?” Mickey muttered.

Ian couldn’t help but grin as he lubed himself up enough to get inside the impatient bottom. His fingers gripped Mickey’s hips roughly as he pushed himself in steadily, both of them moaning in instant satisfaction.

Gallagher was a hell of a fuck. Everything that Mickey needed was instantly supplied to him in a way that made him feel free and full. Their hips began to slap together audibly the bitter scent of sex filling the air and mingling with their voices. Neither of them was exactly quiet. Ian managed to hide his groans somewhat in Mickey’s skin sucking and biting at his shoulders and neck as he plowed him into the mattress. It just felt so fucking good. His body was draped over the smaller man’s sweat beginning to drop with every thrust that he gave. And they felt it, felt the rough steady jolting of their bodies in their hips. It was euphoric.

“Fuck Gallagher!” Mickey hissed shoving himself back against the other man’s throbbing prick. “Harder.”

“Unnngh fuck!”

The redhead did his best to oblige his wishes snapping his hips forward in a blind fury. It was kind of beautiful how well they fit together. Every time Ian’s hips touched Mickey’s ass there was this wonderful burning sensation that took over their senses. They kept going, kept moving each of them just wanting to feel. Tumbling through sheets ripping their nails through flesh as they cried out in pleasure. Mickey found himself doing things he never did in bed. No one had ever been so insistent on leaving their mark on his body before; therefore he’d never gotten the chance to react to it. His cries were louder than he wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Ian sucked and bit at his body fingers digging into that beautiful pale as the closer they got to orgasming.

“Oh shit…Ugh yes jesus fuck!” Mickey cried as Ian reached to pump at his cock.

Ian’s hips lost all sense of rhythm struggling to get both him and Mickey off. He fucked into Mickey’s ass relentlessly while still managing to suck at the brunette’s neck which was covered in hickeys at that point. The fire in Mickey’s gut began to grow reaching a ridiculous temperature. It spread throughout his body igniting in his veins and clawing through his bloodstream as the orgasm slammed into him. He cried out cumming against the sheets so intensely it almost hurt. Ian was right behind him pumping a few more time before his body crashed against Mickey’s for the final time the older man’s name dripping from his lips as they collapsed in a messy heap.

 

Ian woke up with a little ache in his body that only sex could bring. The sheets were cool on his body and he settled down deeper into the bed. When he opened his eyes he was surprised that the line that had streamed in through the window earlier had been replaced with the darkness of night. The only light in the room came from a small table lamp and a lit cigarette dangling from the mouth of the man he’d fucked into the mattress they were now lying on. Ian couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face at the sight of Mickey. The grumpy old man persona only made him more adorable and fascinating. He wanted to know more about the guy. In a instance where he usually would be pulling him pants on, on his way out the door, Ian felt something keeping him here. With Mickey.

Mickey was leaned over a pad of paper with that cigarette still between his lips. Ian leaned away from his pillow, forcing himself into Mickey’s space and snatching the cigarette lightly from him lips.

“What are we drawing?” he smiled.

Mickey huffed shifting uncomfortably. “Jesus you big tree are you aware of how much of you there is when you go throwing yourself on people?”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when my dick was in your ass.” He shrugged peering at the paper. “Is that me sleeping?”

“Depends…”Mickey mumbled shading the jawline that so obviously belonged to Ian.

He took the bait. “On?”

“On whether or not it’s creepy to draw someone while they’re sleeping.”

Something about that was incredibly attractive to Ian. Mickey was different than anyone he’d ever met, and he came with a really rough exterior but there were definitely some soft spots in there somewhere. He couldn’t help but want to explore every facet of the man before him. Not to mention the drawings were damn good. It was Ian in multiple positions all of them from when he was sleeping. Sometimes it was just his face; other times the rest of him came into play and his body wasn’t half bad to look at either.

“Nah man it’s not weird. These are really good. I’m fucking hot if I do say so myself.” He grinned.

Mickey smiled shoving playfully at the redhead and taking his cigarette back.

“If I’m gonna be ready for round two I’m gonna probably need some food at some point.”

The cockiness of this kid, Mickey thought. He couldn’t help but like it. Most people didn’t stick around long enough for him to take a second look, but Gallagher did and Gallagher had something Mickey liked. He wasn’t willing to admit just how much he liked this guy, but he wasn’t exactly willing to kick his ass out of the apartment like the other random fucks he had every now and again. There was something different about this one. A good different.

“I ain’t cooking your ass no four course meal firecrotch you want something to eat you know where the kitchen’s at.”

Ian just smiled pulling himself out of bed. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Mickey watched the beautiful ass that man possessed leave his room, and he was sure he’d never seen anything so enticing in his entire life. His ass was a work of art in itself and Mickey’s love for art knew no boundaries. He looked back to the face in his drawing wondering just how long that face would stick around.

“Oh dude if you’re gonna fuck my brother at least have the courtesy to put underwear on when you leave the room!” Mandy cried from the kitchen. “Nice dick though.”

It was gonna be one hell of a month.

 

 

 


	2. The First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to, but I can’t I got a job to do early in the morning. I’ll come back though. I wouldn’t wanna stand you up for our date after all.” He grins.
> 
> Mickey’s trying to hold back the smile that’s solely reserved for Gallagher, and fails instantly.
> 
> “Who the fuck said I was taking you out tomorrow?”
> 
> Ian doesn’t even hesitate just steps closer to the dark haired man closing any remaining distance by pulling him by the belt loops. And when they’re close it’s hot, and there’s this fog pressing down on either of them every moment they remain within close proximity of one another. It’s the first time anyone’s ever stepped toe to toe with Mickey and he likes it way too much.
> 
> “I did. I like hanging out with you for some reason. Don’t worry we can do equal pay, although considering our current roles society would probably deem you the chick in the relationship anyway.”

Ian was standing at the door of Mickey and Mandy’s apartment wondering desperately if he should knock. Actually he’d been standing there for the last ten minutes trying to will himself to grow a pair and knock. You weren’t supposed to fuck the artist who has to draw you naked for the next month, he knew that. The best decision he could make would be to cut it out and make the relationship strictly business, but Ian also knew the chances of that happening were slim to none. Ian wanted to take Mickey out to dinner. He wanted to know what position he slept in. He wanted to know whether he big spooned or little spooned, though he had a pretty good idea already. Fucking wasn’t enough for Ian, and that was a very dangerous territory to enter.

On the other side of the door Mickey was freaking the fuck out. Not only had he fucked his “muse” four times before letting him leave the apartment, and passing out for the next ten hours, but his itch still felt unscratched. He needed more of Gallagher and, the scariest part was that he didn’t need for it to be sex. Mickey knew that he would be fine just having Ian around, being able to talk to him whenever he wanted to. And there was so much he wanted to create from him. Ever since he’d been able to get out of bed, limp noticeable thanks to Mandy pointing it out, he couldn’t stop his hands from moving. He’d spent the last forty-five minutes listening to Mandy eat and attempting to re-create Ian’s hair color on his palette.

The redhead was due over any second and he felt himself being pulled towards the front door. Jesus it was bad.

“So you gonna ask him out on a date or what?” Mandy asked around a bowl of cereal.

“The fuck I look like asking him out for? We just fucked alright; we’ve got work to do.”

“Uh huhhhh. So going out to eat with the guy would be more distracting from work than you two fucking for three hours and nearly breaking our windows with your screaming?”

He reached out grabbing at her nipple and giving it sharp twist. She growled throwing her spoon at his forehead and grinning when he winced in pain.

“You’re a fucking bitch you know that?!” Mickey spat.

“Of course I do. And you like him, don’t fuck it up. Now I have to go to work, some big party thing tonight should be great in tips. I’ll bring home dinner if you promise to ask him out. And no fucking on the couch mickey!”

She didn’t wait for an answer as she pulled her coat on and grabbed her purse. Mandy had a way of knowing things would go her way, and usually didn’t need to ask twice to get what she wanted. Plus it was just too fucking obvious that her brother wanted that ginger like a dog in heat. It was pitiful. And also kind of sweet. She just didn’t wanna see her brother fuck something good up because he didn’t think he was good enough, but of course she’d never tell him that.

On her way out the door she ran face first into Ian, although with the height difference it was more like face to chest.

“Good luck with the naked shit today. Couch is off limits in your sexcapades!” She called on her way towards the elevator.

Ian smiled after her wondering how it was possible that a roommate could be so cool with what happened let alone a sibling. He found Mickey sitting at the kitchen counter in his sweatpants and a tank top looking adorable as ever with the wrinkle in his brow. He looked like he was focusing pretty hard on something, but that all stopped when Ian came into his line of sight.

“Hi.” Ian murmured awkwardly.

Mickey just stared at him wondering how it hit him just as hard as the first time. Why couldn’t he shake this kid? He didn’t do this. He didn’t ask guys out on dates, or fuck them more than once, or stare at them like they were something much bigger than they were. The history of relationships for Mickey was non-existent. It wasn’t as simple to say, “Hey I missed you when you left, we should go out sometime.” Despite it being the complete and total truth. He wanted it to be. He wanted this thing that he knew nothing about, but he was too much of a pussy to go through with it at the moment.

“Hey. You uh ready to get to work? I wanna try painting you today.”

“Sure. You want all of me this time?” the model asked.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before at this point right?” Mickey smirked.

“I guess you got a point.”

And thus a pattern began to form. Ian stripped down in the studio standing or sitting in whatever so called artistic position that Mickey wanted him in, and Mickey did the rest of the work. They played music, even talked about random shit. Somehow even after taking it up the ass Mickey wasn’t opposed to learning more about his muse. Turns out they were both from the south side, though how a face like that could be South side made no sense. They spent the rest of the day that way. With Mandy away Mickey was able to pretend that no other problems existed. Dating was nothing but complications.

“Are you fucking done yet, my ass is cramping over here.” Ian laughed.

“Man don’t fucking move, the lighting is perfect and I’m almost done.”

“You’ve been painting for hours Mick I’m fucking hungry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Quit your bitching if I don’t get the shading on your left ass cheek just right my masterpiece is ruined. I’ll take your ass out to eat when I’m finished.”

Ian’s eyes shot up towards his hair line at the words settled in the air. Deep in all the bullshit that came out Mickey Milkovich’s mouth there was something sweet in there. An invitation that he wasn’t even sure existed. He wanted it to though. Being with Mickey was the most fun he’d had since he started the whole modeling thing.

“So like… a date?”

Mickey stopped turning to look at Ian. He couldn’t tell whether or not the ginger was into the idea. He knew he could probably play off the whole thing; pretend he’d meant something else, but he also knew there was a possibility that he’d been into it. He tried to convince himself that the sex was too good to not try and score it on the regular. He also knew he was lying to himself.

“Whatever… if that’s what you wanna call it.” He shrugged softly.

He went back to his canvas putting the finishing touches up and setting the brush aside.

“That sounds nice. Do we do sex or eat dinner?”

A grin quickly spread across Mickey’s face. “Who said we couldn’t do both? I’m finished by the way.”

“Oh fuck finally! Let’s see it.”

Mickey could feel Ian step up behind him, still naked, to peer at the painting. Ironically it wasn’t the lack of clothing that made him nervous, but the idea of this person he may or may not really fucking like seeing his artwork. He barely let Mandy see his stuff, and something about painting Ian felt even more personal. He could see his thoughts in the brush strokes, remembered every emotion that had passed through him with each color. For Ian to see it and not shit all over it meant more than either of them knew.

“This is amazing. All the colors. It’s beautiful Mick.” He smirked.

“Thanks . . . I guess. Wouldn’t be much without you.”

“Oh and my dick looks good too.”

“Fuck off man.” Mickey laughed.

Ian took that as an invitation.

 

 *                                  *                                    *

 

Mandy arrived home to round two of the sexcapades. They’d managed to make it to Mickey’s room, it was just the closing the door part that they’d messed up. She brought the take out into the kitchen and grabbed herself a beer before going to interrupt the love birds.

“You two gonna come eat or what? I’m not listening to you two fuck for the next twelve hours again.” She insisted.

“Jesus fuck Mandy! How about a little privacy here huh?!”

She rolled her eyes. “You keep on leaving your fucking door open and we’ll see how private your asshole is. Dinner. Now. You too gingerbread.”

She left the room slamming the door shut up but skipped off to the kitchen with a smile. It didn’t escape her that Ian was the first person Mickey had fucked more than once. It also didn’t escape her that they both had smiles on their faces more g-rated than anything sex should usually entail. Her brother was basically in love. At least on the road to being as such. How fucking cute is that?

Meanwhile back in Mickey’s room Ian was trying to follow Mandy’s instructions and pull out.

“Are you serious? My sister knows fuck all about anything we ain’t done here yet firecrotch.”

Mickey rolled hips back into Ian’s wanting desperately to feel what they’d had going before. It didn’t take long for the control to be snatched away from him, the ginger quickly picking up the brutal pace they’d had before being so rudely interrupted. It wasn’t until they both achieved orgasm that they stumbled out the room to eat dinner with Mandy pulling down tank tops and yanking on sweatpants like they didn’t give a fuck who knew. And maybe they didn’t.

Mandy watched them throughout dinner. She doubted that her stupid ass brother could tell, but he was different with Ian. More different than she’d ever seen him get. It was a good different. Things like the smile on his face, the way he stared at him so intently when he spoke. She noticed how close they sat on the couch with take out in their laps. Ian even talked about south side with him. Something he was barely comfortable talking to her about let alone a random carrot top he met a couple days ago. She figures she should feel awkward, as if she’s imposing on some weird and intimate thing, and maybe in a way she does. But more than anything she sees a pull between them. It’s like they’re friends, and they get each other and it’s fucking weird, yet ridiculously and completely charming.

“That was fun.” Ian murmured as Mickey walked him to the door.

Let the record be known that Mickey Milkovich did not just walk people to the door.

“Yea, surprisingly. You sure you don’t wanna stay the night?”

Mickey winces internally hating how fucking gay that just sounded. His voice is so hopeful and light like a fucking kid telling Santa what he wants for Christmas. It’s not the voice of a Milkovich and he doesn’t understand why he can’t get a sense of control, doesn’t know if he even really wants to.

“I want to, but I can’t I got a job to do early in the morning. I’ll come back though. I wouldn’t wanna stand you up for our date after all.” He grins.

Mickey’s trying to hold back the smile that’s solely reserved for Gallagher, and fails instantly.

“Who the fuck said I was taking you out tomorrow?”

Ian doesn’t even hesitate just steps closer to the dark haired man closing any remaining distance by pulling him by the belt loops. And when they’re close it’s hot, and there’s this fog pressing down on either of them every moment they remain within close proximity of one another. It’s the first time anyone’s ever stepped toe to toe with Mickey and he likes it way too much.

“I did. I like hanging out with you for some reason. Don’t worry we can do equal pay, although considering our current roles society would probably deem you the chick in the relationship anyway.”

“You’re a dick you know that?”

“It’s my specialty.” Ian shrugged leaning towards Mickey.

They kissed. Mickey’s initial reaction was to shove him away, but he fought it letting Ian kiss him softly. And holy shit did he have a problem because that boy could kiss like it was going out of style. The way he bit down on Mickey’s bottom lip just hard enough to make things interesting was causing serious palpitations. He licked his way inside tasting him, and giving as he pleased leaving the big ole’ softy to take it. Mickey was re-thinking all of his rules for this kid and he couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried.

Ian gave him a wink and left like he wasn’t rebuilding Mickey to be some softer version of himself. It occurred to him that normal people probably kissed people that they liked all the time; Mickey just wasn’t one of them. He runs his thumb along his bottom lip where Ian sucked and nibbled, the tingling sensation enough to want to pull firecrotch right back into the apartment. There’s this feeling deep in the pit of his chest that throbs obnoxiously rising and falling repeatedly and driving him insane. He didn’t realize yet that his crush was so severe, so taxing on his heart.

Mandy doesn’t say anything just gives him her all too knowing smirk and lets him slam himself in his bedroom. He doesn’t jerk it that night despite the overwhelming amount of sexual frustration pumping through his veins. Instead he just thinks about Ian until he can’t stop himself and goes and paints for a couple hours. By the time he’s finished its four am and he prays that this doesn’t become a reoccurring thing. Gallagher was slowly but surely taking over his life.

 

*                                                           *                                                          *

 

Ian: What time is our date tonight? I wanna make sure I have time to get all good lookin for you ;)

Mickey: How’d the fuck you get my number?

Ian: Mandy. Your sister is kind of incredible btw. Did you know the bar she works at is just down the street from my apartment? Now about that date….?

Mickey: Jesus fine how about 7? Don’t expect no romantic shit either I’ve never done this before.

Ian: What romance? That’s okay Mick.

Mickey: No ya fucktard dating.

And that’s when Ian realized what he was dealing with. He thought maybe Mickey just wasn’t very experienced with being out and proud, but soon came to realization that he wasn’t used to relationships period. Mickey didn’t have to say it; Ian just kind of knew, and instead of pushing him away it drew him even closer than he expected to be. It meant something to him that Mickey was at least willing to try, and he wasn’t going to take that for granted.

They met at Mickey’s apartment that night, Ian arriving right on time. Well technically they met at the door, because Mickey didn’t want to give Mandy any more chances to embarrass him. Plus he threatened to twist her nipple again if she wasn’t gone by the time they got back, and he didn’t want to give her the chance to kill him or something first. Ian had on a coat that was slim fitting enough to tell everyone there was something good underneath it, and a scarf wrapped gingerly around his neck. It was nothing special, but still Mickey found himself struggling to breathe. He didn’t know if it was the hours he’d gone without a taste of his new found drug, or just the thought of going on a fucking date for the first time. Everything was new and different, and with that comes a level of nerves that won’t disappear. Mickey was just hoping he didn’t fuck it up.

“So what’s on the agenda for tonight? I’ve taken stargazing off my list of things to suspect to limit my expectations of romance.” The adorable ginger grinned.

Mickey bit his lip shrugging slightly. “I don’t know man I was thinking we grab a bite to eat. I don’t do much besides art so my expertise on having a good time is pretty limited.”

“That’s okay. There’s a really cool art gallery not too far from here. I modeled for some photography classes taught there once. We could go check it out, then eat somewhere nearby sound good?”

“Yea.... Sounds good.”

They walked quickly trying to escape the frigid cold of winter in New York City. Ian remained energetic and buoyant the entire time supplying most of the conversation. He told Mickey more about himself, how he got into modeling, what it was like growing up in South Side and being openly gay. It surprised Mickey that he wasn’t closeted the entire time, that he was able to own it in away Mickey never could. By the time they arrived at the art gallery Ian had made major process in knocking down the wall keeping him from getting closer to his date. Adding art to the mix just watered him down even more.

Being around art made Mickey feel like he was finally in his element. They were surrounded by things that he knew and understood, things that felt safe to talk about. With art it was always simple. When things got rough and he just wanted to get away for a little while it was this world that he turned to. It kept him out of jail and a body bag which was definitely a plus. His eyes got lighter as they moved through the gallery. Ian could tell he was happy. A happy Mickey is probably the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“You look good like that you know.” He mentioned as they moved through an exhibit of pastel colors and obscure brush strokes.

“Like what?”

Ian shrugged. “Happy. When you smile it’s kind of adorable. Although I find you adorable when you’re angry too, so it’s like this internal debate I’m having of which one I like more. Maybe I just like you a little too much for my own good.”

Mickey didn’t exactly know what to say to that statement. No, he knew exactly what he _should_ say the problem was his inability to say it.

So he settled for, “You talk too much.” That sounded a little harsh so he tacked on a, “I’m not sure why I like that about you.”

“I make you nervous.” The taller man offered bumping him with his hip. “That’s okay. You’ll get used to me.”

“You make it sound like this is gonna be a repeating event.” Mickey smirked.

“I sure as hell hope so. I like you Mickey. I take pride is being honest and blunt when I have to. And I just thought that you should know that I’m sincerely interested in having a relationship with you even after the painting gig is up.”

Mickey began to realize that Gallagher often said things that made him think too hard. They were things Mickey wasn’t used to and things that made Mickey feel all fucking fluttery inside. When he thought for too long though the thing that came out of his mouth was usually the opposite of what he was feeling. It was a defense mechanism for life on the south side, a mechanism he no longer had a use for. Maybe, just maybe, if he relaxed a little bit, he could have something. He could be . . . in something. Not a relationship. He couldn’t think the word like Ian; he just wasn’t at that point yet.

“I . . . you know, I—I like you too. Let’s just see where it goes huh?”

The smile that hit Ian face looked painful it was so huge, yet still managed to be cute as all fuck. Goddamn his face. It was just too much for little ole Mickey Milkovich’s heart to handle.

“Alright. I can do that.”

They finished walking through the art gallery before it closed for the night. Mickey continued to relax and fall into the groove of things as they went pointing out more about art in the span of an hour then an entire semester at some flimsy art school could offer. Ian adored every second of it, and Mickey just liked having someone who paid attention to what he had to say. It was incredibly refreshing to be with Ian as if it reinforced that who he as a human being was acceptable. All that hard work to get away from the bullshit of Chicago was finally paying off, and coming from a world where tolerable was all he was used to getting, Mickey started to think maybe being adored wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“There’s a pizza place about two or three blocks from here, you up for it?” Ian asked a smile so sweet against his lips that Mickey wanted to lick them.

“Sure.”

Despite the bitter cold nipping at their exposed skin they headed for pizza side by side. Ian was thankful for the cold that forced him to keep his hands in his pockets. He had this intensive need to reach out and hold Mickey’s hand, keep him close like he wasn’t going to disappear otherwise. That kind of went against his whole “let’s not push Mickey so far that he kills me” plan though. As much as he loved a dick up his ass Ian got the sense that public displays of affections weren’t exactly Mickey’s thing. It was okay though, he’d wait.

“So do you like things other than art or are you one those people that just makes it their entire life?”

Mickey rolled his eyes picking up his pizza. “Enough about me, what about you? You model for underground artists all the time or do you do porn on the side too?”

“Funny.” The younger man chuckled. “Modeling pretty much pays the bills. Artists love the whole ginger pale tall guy thing, so there’s always someone who wants to photograph me or whatever. Uh I’m doing the whole online school thing as well, which is hard, but I get through it. I don’t know…I like to run? I love a good Van Damme movie every once in a while.”

Mickey scoffed. “Van Damme? Everyone knows Segal is the way to go.”

This of course launched a forty-five minute discussion about the rigorous and intricate acting careers of two washed up action “heroes” from the 90’s. The only reason the conversation even ended was because they started getting looks from other customers who didn’t understand why two grown men were yelling at each other about a powerful ponytail. Regardless their good mood couldn’t be penetrated; they were just too fucking happy.

“You’re coming back tonight right?” Mickey asked as they waited for a cab over the fucking artic cold outside.

“You’re my only client tomorrow and I just have to do school work after so that sure, sounds nice. Was I just invited to a sleepover?”

But he was doing that goofy grin of his that was so obnoxiously attractive Mickey could barely keep his usual level of fuckery in his tone.

“Fuck you is what you were invited to.” He mumbled.

Mickey paid for the food keeping his eyes far away from Gallagher’s just in case, before they dashed into the safe haven of a heated vehicle. Sitting side by side made it impossible for Mickey to run away from Ian and it kind of forced him to be a little more open with his date.

“You know for someone not into dating you did a really good job of it tonight.”

He gave a sheepish grin and nodded. “Thanks. Glad it wasn’t too terrible.”

“It couldn’t be terrible. I was with you. And when I’m with you nothing feels anything less than outstanding.”

Mickey had a pretty good feeling Ian was over exaggerating, but his heart had another interpretation. This interpretation caused his heart to stumble over its own beat. He had an unnerving desire to kiss Ian. Then he thought of Terry and what Terry would do if he found out his son like to kiss boys and take it up the ass and paint said boys but ass naked on a canvas. His life had changed so drastically that sometimes he struggled to remember who he was. Mickey had felt like he owed it to someone to still be that person that he was. It was the moments he remembered he didn’t owe anyone jack shit that he really started to be free.

So he kissed the long limbed pale ginger with the mouth that never fucking stopped running. He kissed him hard and needy, taking the shocked gasped that flowed down his throat as a sign to keep going. Kissing a dude in the back of a taxi wasn’t a very Mickey thing to do, but maybe, just maybe it was exactly the thing he needed to do. Ian took that kiss and raised him a hand on the cheek. When he realized that his actions were being reciprocated Mickey wanted to see what else he could get away with.  Soon tongue entered the picture, and then it was palming each other through their jeans, and the taxi driver was probably one block away from a blow job happening in his back seat. They escaped the confines of the cab running straight towards Mickey’s apartment where they’d been spending all of their time anyway. This time was different though. Mickey wanted to be free, wanted to be free with Ian.

“What about Mandy?” Ian gasped as they struggled to get to Mickey’s room fast enough.

“I told her to get lost we’re fine.” Mickey insisted tugging on the collar of the taller man’s shirt. “Come back here.”

Ian’s fingers ghosted down Mickey’s sides digging mercilessly into the ass he loved so much. They were both so hot for each other that just knowing that no one was going to interrupt fueled the longing they shared. Mickey let the taller man say and do things that he hadn’t previously tolerated. The lines just kept getting blurred until he couldn’t remember what Ian could and couldn’t do. Kissing during sex was now perfectly okay, something that used to be impossible due to the fact that Mickey’s face was always shoved into a pillow or an alley when he fucked. This was no longer good enough. His date wanted to see his face. Wanted to watch him come undone, ripping apart by the seams when Ian hit every tender spot. It wasn’t fair for it to feel so good.

Mickey had to constantly remind himself that he was supposed to let go, and of course it would be fitting that he could only accomplish his goal under Ian’s command.

He reached for Mickey running his fingers along his jaw and kissing him softly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay it’s just me. Let go.” He tried to reassure him through gentle murmurs and sensual kisses. “I won’t hurt you.”

It didn’t make sense for Ian to know his body so well, but he did. Mickey couldn’t find it in him not to believe the words that the man on top of him spoke. Those eyes that he felt like he’d painted a hundred times staring back him held nothing but honesty. He wouldn’t hurt him, would only make him feel better than he thought possible. There was nothing to hide from with Ian. Things were almost . . . simple.

Mickey’s arm and legs clamped down on Ian’s back with every movement of their hips. His fingers ran over the pale skin of his date grasping and clawing with need. Ian kept managing to hit places that Mickey didn’t know existed eliciting whimpers and moans that you couldn’t get the former thug to ever admit to making. His hands gripped his ass, pulling him in closer digging in deeper. It was passionate and frantic though they felt like they had all the time in the world. Every second that they were connected was heaven in its purest form. Ian’s ability to make Mickey forget everything and everyone but him was all that they needed. It felt good, and Mickey didn’t feel like running away from the things that made him happy anymore.

“Can I stay or do you want me to leave?” Ian whispered along his throat as they eased down from their high.

Mickey sighed contently. “It’s cold as all fuck outside and you’re basically a furnace. If you even try to get out of this bed I’m never fucking you again.”

Ian hid his face in his lover’s neck laughing softly. When he looked back down at Mickey with those eyes and cheek bones . . . that smile? It was beginning to get ridiculous how beautiful that man was. Mickey reached up hesitantly to strum his fingers along the jaw line he’d suck on just moments before, moved slowly over the curve of the lips that had moaned his name over and over again, even traced the eyelids that only become visible when it all came crashing down. The redhead was kind of beautiful.

“I wanna paint you just like this. Remind me to paint you after sex sometime would ya?”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Milkovich are you insinuating that we’re going to continue to have sex in the future?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I’m insinuating that you should shut the fuck up and stop ruining the moment ya long legged freak.”

“Your nicknames for me really get me going.” He smirked rutting himself against Mickey’s thigh.

There was a smile and a laugh on the smaller man’s face that Ian wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to, but he has this extremely overwhelming feeling that he was gonna spend the rest of his life trying to.

“If you don’t get that thing away from man!” He chuckled squirming away. “My ass is tired.”

“Fine, fine I can wait.”

He wrapped his arms around Mickey and the warmth was too amazing to shove him off. It was different with Ian, but not bad. No, Mickey was very quickly becoming convinced that nothing involving Gallagher could ever be bad.

 

 

 


	3. Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ve only been going out a couple weeks firecrotch there will be plenty of time for your random acts of romance I’m sure.”
> 
> There it was again. That grin so wide on his face that it looked like it might split in two. His eyes seemed to get visibly brighter, his face flushing with color in the process. Mickey didn’t even realize what he’d said. He had a habit of not being self-aware, so when the redhead stopped them both in the middle of the street and attacked him with a hug Mickey just thought maybe he’d lost his ever fucking mind. It didn’t help that the pale son of a bitch was like seven feet tall and could crush Mickey into his arms with ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kind of a mini chapter tbh i have some things planned though so just please stick with me i PROMISE you won't regret it.  
> Come say hi! http://zankiefanatic.tumblr.com/

“Oh Mickey these are wonderful!”

Mickey was standing back against the wall with crossed arms as Laura, the director of the exhibit, walked around his studio. He had two paintings completely done, and a couple of drawings that he wanted to be together as a kind of series of their own. He was really proud of them, but at the same time something about having his art centered on Ian felt very private, personal. Every piece had a story and every story was so intimate that he wondered how he would feel when it came to actually sharing it with other people. This almost meant that a warm sense of pride settled over him when the lady liked them. Of course she liked them. It was Ian; how could she not?

“How many more do you plan on making?” She asked eyes still encapsulated on Ian’s naked body.

Mickey shrugged. “Ian’s coming over this weekend after school and we’re gonna work the entire time. I should have something else to show you by the end of next week.”

“I can’t wait this is some really special work.” She smiled.

She gave him his pay check before leaving with a too cheery smile, but then he saw the number on the check and being too happy seemed like an impossible feat. It was the most he’d ever been paid for his work at once, and he was kind of losing his shit. He may or may not have questioned the possibility of cashing the check and rolling around naked in the money in his bed until Mandy got back from work. That seemed a little over dramatic even to Mickey though, so he settled for putting most of it in the bank and heading to Mandy’s job to tell her the good news. It occurred to him that there were now two people he wanted to share the news with, ginger hair blazing in his head.

He had such a great thing going with Ian. They spent most of the week together for work, and Ian almost always spent the night disappearing only for hours at a time to get clean clothes from his place, do school work, or complete other jobs. And it wasn’t always sex, something that surprised Mickey more than anything. They watched movies and drank beer and like . . . talked. Granted Ian still supplied most of the conversation seeing as how Mickey’s ability to open up was still lacking. The stranger part was how happy Mickey was with it. Ian would show up with dinner and make himself at home and no one minded. He and Mandy got along really well when they weren’t in Mickey’s room fucking, or in Mickey’s studio. Things were flowing perfectly.

So perfectly that when Mickey showed up at Mandy’s job and saw his big loveable ginger tree sitting at the bar, he didn’t even flinch. He climbed up on a bar stool with a smirk on his face ready to show off his new found “wealth”.

“What are you doing here jackass?” Mandy chuckled cleaning a glass.

“Why don’t you stop being a little shit and get your brother a shot. We’re celebrating tonight.”

Ian turned his attention away from his laptop. “What for?”

Mickey reached into his pocket pulling out the fresh hundreds still warm off the printer.

“For the pay day your naked ass brought me. I’m gonna work harder this weekend see if we can get two more cranked out, the pay is just too good. She left your check too, but I didn’t think you’d be here so I left it at the apartment. What are you doing here anyway?”

Ian reached over to sneak a kiss onto Mickey’s lips pulling back with a smirk. “Internet is out at my apartment, so I came here for the wifi and the company. Why you want me to leave?”

“Well of course not; you could’ve just come over to my place though. I can provide just as much company as my sister. Plus I suck your dick so I don’t really see how the two match up.” Mickey mumbled.

“I didn’t wanna bother you. Awww babe are you jealous?”

Both Ian and Mandy seemed delighted by the idea of a jealous Mickey share a grin that pissed the adorable little man off.

“No you shitstick I’m not jealous and call me babe again I’ll kick your fucking ass.” He muttered quickly throwing back the shot that Mandy put before him. “I’m not your keeper you wanna sit here in this shit hole all day be my guest.”

Ian and Mandy shared a smirk at the quickly diminishing mood of the dork in front of them. Soon enough Ian was out of his chair wrapping his arms around the smaller man from behind and placing a chaste kiss on his neck.

“Jesus Christ Gallagher we’re in public, stop manhandling me!”

Ian just laughed. “You were happy for all of ten seconds Mick I think that’s a new record. Now why don’t you stop whining, drink some more I’ll finish up my school work and then we’ll go celebrate you’re amazing accomplishment.”

He reached down cupping Mickey through his jeans so that Mandy couldn’t see from over the bar.

“Fuck fine just sit down would ya?” He begged knowing he’d probably always give in when it came to Ian.

They sat there, Ian doing his school work while Mandy served up whatever alcoholic beverage suited Mickey’s needs. There were a couple of stragglers here and there, but for the most part it was just those three hanging out and talking. It was a nice way to set off a Friday night, the weekend promising to be exhilarating. By the time Ian finished whatever the fuck he was doing Mickey had a nice buzz going, but the air felt right and he knew he was just getting started.

“I wanna take you out tonight.” Ian smirked reaching out to hold Mickey’s hand as they walked.

Mickey stared down at their hands intertwined and wondered why it didn’t bother him when the redhead touched him. It was still incredibly strange for him to be with Ian in public, and Ian rarely took advantage of the fact knowing Mickey’s feelings on the subject. When he did though, Mickey knew he didn’t want him to pull away, so he tried his hardest not to.

“Yea?” He asked eyes straying from their hands to crystal clear green eyes. “What for?”

“To celebrate your amazing art, and my amazing physique of course. Every time we go out you always end up paying, let me do something nice for a change.”

“We’ve only been going out a couple weeks firecrotch there will be plenty of time for your random acts of romance I’m sure.”

There it was again. That grin so wide on his face that it looked like it might split in two. His eyes seemed to get visibly brighter, his face flushing with color in the process. Mickey didn’t even realize what he’d said. He had a habit of not being self-aware, so when the redhead stopped them both in the middle of the street and attacked him with a hug Mickey just thought maybe he’d lost his ever fucking mind. It didn’t help that the pale son of a bitch was like seven feet tall and could crush Mickey into his arms with ease.

“Goddammit Gallagher what’s gotten into you?!” Mickey huffed.

Ian set him back onto the ground smile still wide as all outside.

“You just said we’re dating. Not hooking up, or just fucking, you, Mickey Milkovich, said going out which is an obvious synonym for dating. We’re dating.” Ian practically giggled.

Mickey shrugged shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well . . . yea. Is that not what we’re doing?”

“No we definitely are I just didn’t think you’d be this open about it. Now I can call you my boyfriend, the possibilities are endless. I thought we were gonna take months to get to that point.”

“You say that like I’m hard to get or something.” Mickey smirked as they made their way back to his apartment.

“Well we fucked the first day I met you so I’m not exactly sure either of us are hard to get. I’m really glad you’re letting me in though Mick. I know it’s not easy for you.”

He leaned over and snuck another kiss on Mickey’s cheek this time, getting an extreme sense of satisfaction when his whole face turn bright red from the contact. To Ian, Mickey was just the cutest damn thing ever.

“Yea, yea,” Mickey mumbled. “don’t mention it.”

They arrived back at Mickey’s apartment hand in hand glad to be away from the bitter cold once again. Mickey reached to pull off his coat and sling it over the counter in the kitchen when he was suddenly slammed into the front door. Needless to say this wasn’t the type of manhandling he objected to. Ian took his time to suck at the skin of his boyfriend while still managing to grind his hips down on the older man’s. Mickey would never understand the reaction Ian could pull out of him every single time. He didn’t really mind it either as long at the gigantic ass men kept doing it.

“Fuck Gallagher.” He moaned humping desperately for more friction.

Ian’s breath was hot against his collar bone as he tore at his shirt desperately.

“Call me Ian.” The taller man gasped working with frantic fingers at Mickey’s belt. “Not Gallagher, not firecrotch not ginger anything. I’ll fuck you so good it hurts please I—just call me Ian this one time.”

And he almost doesn’t, thinks of all the things that change when he’s not crying out some stupid nickname when he cums. Admitting that they were in fact dating had been huge for Mickey. It was something he did entirely for Ian. He should’ve known the greedy bastard would want more, always wanting more of Mickey in a way no one else ever bothered to ask for. He reaches down deep trying to find it within him to let go, tells himself that he doesn’t have to be afraid of this man.

It’s like Ian can just hear his thoughts the seconds they appear in his head though, cause soon the redhead is kissing Mickey’s skin sweet and soft his warm breath tingling at the nape of Mickey’s neck.

“I won’t hurt you Mickey. It’s just you and me.”

Mickey likes the sound of that too much. He craves not needing to stand on his own despite it being the only thing he’s ever known. Above all he knows that if it could work with anyone it could work with Ian. Then he wonders when having sex started feeling like a fucking therapy session, and tells himself to stop being a fucking pussy and get what he wants. Even if what he wants is the very thing that terrifies him the most.

“ ** _Ian_**.”

It’s barely a breath, but it’s just enough to make contact with his lover’s ear. The reaction that it causes is remarkable. Mickey swears he feels a growl touch his collarbone. Suddenly the rutting of his hips is being returned. And their dicks are slapping together through rough denim and it’s not nearly enough but it feels so fucking good. They’re both panting gripping at each other’s hips to try for a better angle. Mickey feels like he’s on fire and it’s slowly starting to boil over, this rare form of passion that he never uses, never has to. His fingers dig into Ian’s hips pulling them down and up to hit perfectly at his cock.

“Ian.” He moaned his teeth sinking into any exposed skin he can find.

His voice is horse and muffled by labored breaths, but Ian’s ears are so attuned to it that he hears every syllable.

“Fuck me already.” He groaned. “Please?”

They slid to the floor pulling clothes off as they go. Mickey’s pretty sure he hears a rip at some point, but he can’t tell if it’s his zipper or his shirt and he’s too fucking horny to care. Fucking on the floor isn’t easy and they have to try a few different positions before it feels right.

“Should I go get lube?” Ian mumbled spreading Mickey’s legs the way he likes them.

“Fuck no you’re not going anywhere but inside me Ian.”

The smile on this kid’s face just from being called his name is fucking obnoxious. And maybe beautiful not that Mickey would ever admit that. So they use nothing but pre-cum and spit and it burns so good that he wonders why he ever uses lube at all. Then Ian’s pounding him into the floor making his head hit the counter that separates the kitchen from the entryway. Usually he’d deal, but Gallagher’s fucking him so hard after around the tenth thrust his head starts to hurt. When that doesn’t work they try the rug by the door, but again the powerful almighty plunge of Ian’s hips is causing a fire on Mickey’s back and not the good kind. They settled for leaning against the front door, cause who gives a fuck if Mandy comes home, Mickey straddling Ian as he fucks into him harder than he has any right to ask for. He keeps his face in Ian’s neck too, thinking that not looking each other in the eyes somehow makes them fucking face to face okay.

Jesus Gallagher knows what he’s doing with that thing. It’s not enough to be packing he knows Mickey’s body way too well. Every thrust hits something within him cutting at the strings and making him come completely undone. He rolls his hips fucking himself on Ian’s dick trying to make it last as long as he can. Somewhere in there his arms are around Ian’s neck and their both sucking and nipping at the other’s body. Mickey’s legs tangle behind the other’s man back and the door is just enough leverage to work him deeper working that spot like no one’s ever worked it before.

“Goddammit…. Oh fuck Ian I can’t!” He gasped fingers clutching at pale skin.

He continues to throw himself again Gallagher but loses all sight of his rhythm. Ian’s hands are cupping his ass pushing himself roughly into the blue eyed man and suddenly it’s time to bring round one to a close.

“It’s alright we’re almost there Mick. Look at me.” He murmurs capturing his attention quickly. “You’re gonna cum. And I’m not gonna touch you at all, but I’ll fuck you all night if that’s what it takes. Can you do that for me? Can you cum untouched.”

Mickey just smiles, something that can only be brought out when being blissfully fucked into an orgasm.

“Show me what you got Gallagher.”

It’s one of their best fucks to date, though they lost track after one of Ian’s first nights over. He plowed into him mercilessly, a pace that Mickey has come to crave, and it goes straight to his cock. The sobs foaming from his mouth are downright pitiful, but he can’t find it within himself to care. It doesn’t help that Ian’s making similar sounds, that it turns him on so much to make Mickey feel good. They continued to pound away at each other the sound reverberating off the walls. Mickey keeps inching closer with every thrust, but then again so is Gallagher, and all it takes is them coming together, literally and figuratively, to push them both over the edge.

“God Mick you feel so good! Shit I’m gonna cum.” He groaned.

He held firmly onto Mickey’s hips hammering against his prostate ending it for the both of them. They both cried out at the same time come splashing against their stomachs as Mickey completely lost it. Within seconds they were slumping against the door too tired to even talk about what the fuck had just happened. Mickey liked it best that way.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Ian wakes up before Mickey and it’s only because the front door hits him in the face when Mandy forces her way in.

“Oh for fuck’s sake what is it with you two?!” She groans walking right past them.

Ian smirked stretching and cracking his limbs from the floor.

“What time is it?”

“A little after six basically time for you to get something to cover up my brother’s astoundingly pale ass.”

“I’ll have you know I love that astoundingly pale ass.” He chuckled pulling his underwear on.

Mandy stopped. “Did you just say you love my brother?”

Ian froze. “N—No I said I love his ass. And don’t tell him any different either he just actually used my name during sex and admitted we’re dating. I’m making progress don’t fuck it up Milkovich.”

It was Mandy though, so no intimidation was felt once so ever.

“You’re cute. It’s weird that you know all the things you’re going to have to go through with him without asking. Just… don’t hurt him alright? I like you and if I have to kick your ass I’m gonna feel a little bad about it.”

He tried to hold back his ridiculous grin and failed miserably. “I would never do that. I care about him too much . . . unless of course he asked me to hurt him. I have a sneaking suspicion your brother’s a little kinky in the sac.”

“Alright get the fuck out of my face.”

Ian grabbed the blanket off Mickey’s bed and a pillow for his boyfriend—which Mandy found hilarious—before at least pulling his jeans back on. Then it was just the two of them. Mandy watched as he checked his watch and reached into his bag pulling out one of those pill containers labeled with the days of the week. She didn’t say anything at first, just watched him pour an assortment of pills into his palm and knock them back with water from the tap. When he didn’t explain it, she figured it was just something he was used to doing around Mickey and didn’t feel the need to bring up.

“I give alright, what’s with the pills?”

“Hmm.... oh they’re my supplements. My body is a temple Mands I gotta treat it as such.” He smirked. “Now the real question is how are we gonna celebrate tonight for Mickey?”

“You mean you guys fucking on the floor was just the beginning of the festivities? Oh joy.”

“God you Milkovichs are sarcastic fucks. Come on Mandy I wanna do something special for him. He deserves it; his art is amazing.”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll make a liquor store run and we’ll bust out the good weed, order pizza. That fucking idiot is knocked out anyway. Anytime he starts annoying me I’m just gonna call you up to dick him into unconsciousness.”

It causes a loud, obnoxious laugh to burst out of Ian and she can’t help but smile in return. Liking her brother was one thing, being so ridiculously adorable was another thing entirely. So she forgets about the pills not even thinking anything of it and goes on about her day. They split up; Mandy heading to get the boos, and Ian ordering enough pizza and wings for a small army aka Mickey. Meanwhile the guest of honor remained passed the fuck out with cum leaning from his ass onto the floor. TGIF motherfuckers.

By the time Ian’s done ordering the pizza he feels like he’s not helping the cause much just sitting there, so he might as well wake Mickey up. And by wake Mickey up he totally means sneak under the covers and blow him for a while. It worked though and soon Mickey was wide awake coming down Ian’s throat within minutes.

“Jesus I know we go at it a lot, but you’re a roll today firecrotch.” He grins down at the younger man licking him clean.

“I’m literally gonna shave my pubes just so you can’t call me that anymore.”

“Ah fuck off you like it.”

Ian crawled leisurely up his boyfriend’s body leaving a trail of kisses in his path.

“You can call me Ian you know? I shouldn’t have to fuck my name out of you. I also accept pet names like babe or sweetheart. Maybe a little cum slut to shake things up every now again.”

Mickey raised a perfectly arched eyebrow trying to figure out which part of that statement to dissect first.

“First of all firecrotch, assface, and dickbreath are my pet names we’re fucking south side if you haven’t forgotten. Second of all if you’re waiting on me to call you babe you’re gonna be waiting for hell to freeze over Gallagher. Third of all, I’d like to be dating for at least a month before we explore each other’s weird fetishes.”

Ian grinned happily. “Great so I’ll wait until our first month anniversary to tell you I wanna cuff you to the bedpost and fuck you into the wall until you black out or that I’m perfectly okay with you experimenting with my air supply while sucking your dick. See babe communication is key.”

Mickey gave him a light shove chucking at the stupidity that was his boyfriend.

“Call me babe again and your new nickname will be fucktard for always and eternity.”

Mandy arrived back just in time to catch Ian wiping the cum up off the floor, but she chose to side step that particular conversation. They have a good fucking time for losers who only hang out with each other. Mickey’s got his pizza and his weed, Mandy’s got her alcohol and her amazing video game skills to kick his ass with, and Ian’s got a stronger sense of home than he’s had since he moved to New York. No one notices that he doesn’t drink, probably because the Milkovich’s are already trying to out gulp each other. He’s so happy, so filled with this strong set of emotions that only one took over after he met Mickey. It’s a good place to be in, even if he knows that it’s not permanent. That nothing can ever be permanent with Ian.

It’s just fun. It’s fun to be with Mickey and remember the good parts of home. It’s fun to be between two jackasses yelling at a screen and slamming buttons furiously on a controller. It’s fun to not have to worry for a little while cause if there’s one thing Ian Gallagher is good as it’s worrying. That one month is closer than Mickey realizes; and Ian knows it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out, before everything that is so beautiful and exciting about life is stolen away from him. It’s not the first time it’s happened, so why does the thought of losing Mickey scare him so much? It hits him when Mickey leans into Ian’s shoulder while swallowing another slice of pizza. The contact is enough to make him tingle, and causes the scariest reaction of all.

Yea it’ll end, and it’ll end badly like they all do, but something about this time is so much worse. Because Ian’s in love with Mickey Milkovich and he’s got no clue how he’ll ever be able to let him go.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated!


	4. The Art Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No fuck that you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz into my life and make everything different and make me like it and then storm out like this was never anything. You don’t get to open me and then back out, that’s not fucking fair Gallagher!”
> 
> They stepped closer to each other the pain in the room almost stifling.
> 
> “I’m sorry. I thought we had longer. I thought I could be more for you, but I can’t Mickey.” He whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://zankiefanatic.tumblr.com/ here's my tumblr if you want to yell at me. i won't even blame you.

It all comes crashing down too soon to be expected. One day Ian’s over just like always and they’re working in Mickey’s studio. There’s music playing and Mickey’s in his element which is when Ian thinks he looks the sexiest. The exhibit closes in on them and they get some of the best work either of them has ever achieved. It’s so good that Laura offers them more space in the show for Mickey’s work. He’s got ten paintings all of this weirdly amazing ginger haired fuck that he spends all of his time with nowadays, and he’s fucking proud. All of the drawings make it into the show as well bringing in a pay check of over five grand. Although he won’t admit it, he knows it’s not about the money, that he got a much higher level of satisfaction from making good work. Everything is kind of incredibly perfect.

Then the day of the show Ian doesn’t come over at his usual time of the crack ass of dawn to annoy Mickey until he gets out of bed. It’s like clockwork for them, and when seven feet of ginger paleness isn’t waking him up in the morning his body notices. He gets up and goes to check in the kitchen but no breakfast has been made. Mandy stumbles out of her room with no pants on complaining about the sun being the devil or some shit, but Mickey’s too busy trying not to freak out.

“You seen Ian this morning?”

Mandy yawns and shakes her head. “It’s a shame too; I was looking forward to his French toast.”

“He’s probably at the store getting eggs or some shit. We gotta stock the fridge better if we’re gonna expect him to cook every single time he’s over here.”

He calls Ian only for it to go straight to voicemail. There are no texts, no messages, not even a fucking sticky note on the freezer. Ian hasn’t been here, and it’s a pretty important day for him to disappear off the face of the planet. It’s not that Mickey’s some clingy bitch or anything it’s just that sometimes you get used to someone being around, and you get used to wanting them around so when they don’t show up . . . it sucks.

“What time is the show tonight?”

Mickey’s still looking at his phone wondering where Gallagher is.

“Uh seven. I’ll be there all day setting up and shit, making sure they don’t fuck up my paintings.”

“Hey maybe Ian will show up there. He probably knew you were you gonna be stressed about today and wanted to give you space. You know him, he’ll be there.” She offers.

He tries to believe her, but his usual tendencies are kicking in. The tendencies that say fuck the world and everyone’s gonna leave and you should never let anyone close to you ever again. Maybe Gallagher just wanted to shake things up while they were working together. Maybe Mickey wasn’t even the first one. Maybe every time he disappeared for another job he was fucking someone else. Maybe letting him in had been his biggest mistake.

He thinks about it all day. Every time he sees Ian’s face on a canvas he’s reminded of fucking him on the cold wood floors or exchanging hickeys on his couch and then stopping to paint them. He wonders if any of it was real. How could he have fallen in . . . No. Not in love. Mickey doesn’t do in love, but the point is he cares about the fucking kid and the thought of being without him physically pains him. Each piece is a reminder of their time together, and he thinks of the things Ian would’ve said if he were there.

“Jesus Mick look at me! I’m so fucking good looking it’s no wonder you had to fuck me that first day.” With big goofy grin on his face.

“I remember this one. I got a legitimate cramp in my ass and you stopped to massage it for me. Ahhh good times.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

But he wasn’t there. Ian didn’t show up at all. All these people praising him for the work that he’s done and it only takes one person not being there to fuck it all up. He wants to be proud, but the impending doom of Ian’s absence is too much to go unrecognized. Mandy notices. She watches him pacing in the corner, checking his phone, looking around in the crowd with hopeful eyes. It kills her to see him the way that he is. They present Mickey and all the other artists with a print of their best work in the show and Mickey storms out before anyone can see the pain on his face.

His chest feels tight and he doesn’t know what he thinks he’s doing storming over to Gallagher’s apartment at ten o’clock at night, but he can’t help himself. Every step he takes makes him angrier and his hands twitch wanting to punch and strangle something. Anger is normal. Anger is something Mickey can handle. What he can’t handle is the unnerving sadness that washes over him. Not just the idea of not being wanted, but the idea of not being wanted by Ian specifically so he shoves that away and focuses on the rage rocking him from the balls of his feet. It never made sense to him for Ian to want him, but did he have to snatch his happiness away so soon?

Mickey’s track record for showing up Ian’s apartment is so low that he’s not a hundred percent positive he has the right one. The only thing that assures him is the loud obnoxious music blaring from underneath the door that can only be from the playlist he lets Ian play when they’re working sometimes. He pounds on the door trying to keep himself together and realizing just how shit of a job he’s doing when his fingers keep trembling. You’re a fucking Milkovich, he tells himself, act like it.

“Gallagher fucking let me in!” He demanded slamming his fist roughly against the door.

He knows that he’s in there, can feel that magnetic annoying ass pull Mandy always whines about. So he acts like a Milkovich and he picks the lock. Like a fucking door could stop him anyway. But having to pick the lock just makes him all the more livid because it means that Ian didn’t want him to come in; it means that Ian is avoiding him. Mickey throws his painting to the side storming around the small shoebox of an apartment for the source of his distress. Ian’s bedroom door is open and Mickey think’s he sees a giant lump in the comforters but the lights are off and the music is too fucking loud for him to be sure of anything.

He ripped the stereo out of the wall on his way to Ian’s room his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest.

“What the fuck Gallagher! How could you not fucking show up tonight?!”

He closed his mouth teeth audibly snapping harshly together awaiting his reply. What he gets is sobs. Loud, painful sobs filling the air in a way they couldn’t when the music was playing. He’d never seen a grown man sob like that before, but something about the way Ian’s doing it makes the entire world stop. Everything in him softens instantly, and it’s almost as if he’s forgotten why he was mad in the first place.

“Ian? Ian, man, what’s wrong?” He mumbled leaning down close on the bed.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark where he could see Ian shriveled up in the fetal position rocking back and forth. It was like he couldn’t see Mickey at all. He turned the lamp on the bedside table on only to be met with the sight of pill bottles everywhere. It didn’t even occur to him that the bottles could be anything good, because at the end of the day he’s south side and nine times out of ten a bottle of pills was used for a different intent then the label on the fucking box. He doesn’t even think just climbs over to Ian’s weeping frame hands shaking for a completely different reason now. His fingers touch ginger hair and he instantly freaks out at the thought of losing everything he’d been so sure was already lost.

“Ian?! Ian listen to me what the fuck did you take? Huh answer me!”

Ian didn’t understand what Mickey was talking about. He was crying because it was over not because he was dying. He’d spent all day and all night in bed too afraid to leave the house. The problem with Ian is his anxiety. This feeling that gnaws on your insides constantly telling you that you’re not in control, that you can’t handle what’s in front of you. It’s so terrifying, so overwhelming and incomprehensible that when his other disorders start to spin out of control on top of that he spirals a little bit. And you can’t breathe, can’t get your body to do what everyone else is so comfortable doing and it fucking sucks. The crying was new. That probably had something to do with the idea of never seeing Mickey again. The exhibit showed up and Ian just knew it was over. He hadn’t gotten out of bed since.

“I—I didn’t ta—take anything.” He mumbled snot and tears pooling above his top lip. “Go away Mickey.”

“I can’t leave . . . What’s wrong? What is all this shit?”

And all of a sudden Ian reaches out and grabs Mickey’s wrist, a look in his eye that Mickey’s never seen before.

“I’m sorry,” He whimpers before breaking down again. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

Then it’s just tears and he’s crushing his body into Mickey’s despite having just told him to go away. They sit there like that Ian’s head tucked under Mickey’s chin as he cries. It’s an endless stream of apologies and begging, and he’s not really sure what the kid is apologizing for. For a while he questions whether or not he should call an ambulance or something. Ian scared the living shit out of him, but the idea of disturbing him anymore than he already had stopped him. He sat there instead cradling this grown man in his arms and wondering what the fuck happened. Ian wiped his face on Mickey’s only dress shirt before finally settling back into what seemed like a deep sleep. And despite all the pain of the last ten hours, he didn’t even mind.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Waking up is weird. The sun streamed through the window directly into Mickey’s face, and he almost forgot. For a second it’s just a usual every day thing before the memories come running back. The look on Ian’s face so crumpled and worn with agony was permanently engraved in his mind, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get it out. His stomach flipped and flopped uncomfortably because he still didn’t know what actually happened. Ian is nowhere to be found, and that makes Mickey’s skin crawl.

He scrambled out of bed throwing himself out of the room only to be met with Ian’s bare back in the tiny kitchen of his apartment. It took him a second, but when he acknowledged Mickey his face cracked a little bit showing some of the emotion from last night. He hurried to fix it, smoothing it over with a smile. But it wasn’t Mickey’s smile, wasn’t the smile of a man who could get him to do any dammed thing he pleased. It was calculated, like a routine and that didn’t sit very well with Mickey.

“You want French toast? I made bacon too. And coffee and uh some of those cheesy eggs you like so much.” He grinned.

That angered Mickey. He didn’t like when things felt fake or forced, all it did was piss him off even more than telling the truth would.

“The fuck you asking me about French toast for? What was that last night?”

Ian bit his lip, his eyes quickly falling to floor. The time had come. He didn’t even get a last meal, one more kiss to get him through the day, the months, hell years even with how deep he was in with Mickey. Might as well get it over with.

“I thought I’d have more time with you.” He mumbled.

“What is that supposed to mean, you dying or something?”

He laughed bitterly. “Not exactly. More like I’m sick in the head and now you’ve seen it and now you’re gonna leave because everyone leaves and I just thought that I could hide it for a little while longer. Thought that I could . . . love you for a little while longer.”

Fuck. Fuck doesn’t even begin to describe what Mickey’s feeling, but those emotions are too complex for him to decipher so he settled on fuck. Love. Too scary. So he went back over the rest of the statement hoping to find something safer to talk about. He was reminded of Ian begging him not to leave last night, to please stay with him, and he definitely didn’t realize at the time that he’d thought Mickey would leave for good.

“Sick in the head how?” He struggles to choose his words carefully.

Ian looks up at him with wide and terrified eyes covered with a film of tears threatening dangerously to fall once again. He wanted nothing more than to wipe them away with his thumb.

“I’m bipolar. The pill bottles…I didn’t take anything to—I wasn’t gonna do anything. They’re just my meds. I take them to keep me under control, to keep me from acting like what you saw last night.” He looked back down playing with his fingers which trembled tumultuously. “But sometimes they don’t work, and sometimes I have these—these fits. I um I can’t get out of bed. I can’t function. I’m not normal Mick. And I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want you to leave. I wanted you to stay with me.”

He started to cry again and that was too much for Mickey to deal with that early in the morning. His knowledge of bipolar disorder is non-existent, so it’s not as big of a deal to him as Gallagher makes it seem to be. What scares him is the look on Ian’s face. This idea that he could ever make himself leave him settling into the lines creasing his forehead. Mickey was in way too deep. He cared about Ian. Enough to let him in, let him tear down all the ugly things inside and begin to build him up again. He didn’t know what he would do if Gallagher didn’t finish the construction.

“Fuck Ian I’m not going anywhere.” He sighed stepping hesitantly towards the ginger.

Ian just shook his head. “You won’t mean to. You’ll try, to understand, and at first it’ll work. I’ll be so happy to have you care and try that it’ll affect my moods. But that doesn’t work all the time Mick. Sometimes I can’t fuck for weeks, months if I have to change my meds. I won’t want you the way I do right now. I’m not… you deserve more than that. You deserve something more stable.”

Mickey can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Everything is wrong, just blown to shit before him. All he wants is for things to go back to how they were. All this talk of people not deserving each other was causing that tightness is his chest again.

“No fuck that you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz into my life and make everything different and make me like it and then storm out like this was never anything. You don’t get to open me and then back out, that’s not fucking fair Gallagher!”

They stepped closer to each other the pain in the room almost stifling.

“I’m sorry. I thought we had longer. I thought I could be more for you, but I can’t Mickey.” He whispered.

“Well then fucking try!” Mickey screamed voice near hysterics. “Everything you just said is bullshit. Like I give a fuck if you can get it up or not, that’s not the point. This is supposed to be more; you were supposed to be more. I trusted you with all my fucked up shit, and now you want to walk away because of a disorder than only appears when you need new meds? No.”

“Mickey…”

It’s just a breath but it feels like a nail in a coffin.

“Ian.” He stumbled forward not caring how pathetic he looked anymore. “Ian don’t. Don’t fucking do that to me.”

Ian moved his eyes back to the floor kicking at nothing and running his finger along the waistband of Mickey’s jeans.

“You should go Mick.”

Mickey just stared at him incredulously because absolutely nothing he was saying made any sense.

“I should go? You sit there last night slobbering into my chest for an hour begging me not leave you, and n—now you want me to go?”

Ian avoided the crystal clear blue eyes that could make him crumble with ease. He was irrational to say the least in that moment. His body was used to a schedule, and after everything that had taken place in the past twenty-four hours, it was like starting from scratch. Hurting mickey would become something he’d regret for the rest of his life, but in that moment it wasn’t up to him it was his disorder. He felt like a poison, and he loved Mickey too much to poison his life too. So he stayed quiet ignoring the sounds of Mickey swallowing the lump in his throat. He stayed quiet as Mickey told him to go fuck himself, as he threw Ian’s favorite piece from the entire art collection at him, and even as he stormed out of his apartment. Anything it took to not ruin Mickey. He didn’t seem to realize that by trying not to ruin him he’d ended up doing that exactly.

*                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Mickey’s art took a complete 180. Mandy noticed it the first time a client bought a piece since Ian left. She knew Mickey’s ways and the color schemes he usually used. When he asked her to upload the new works online though, everything was different. Beautiful vibrant colors were replaced with blacks and muddled blues. Even the content matter was different. He started painting angry faces, or just throwing color on a canvas with harsh strokes. They were still wonderful, still paid the bills, but it wasn’t Mickey. Not the Mickey she knew.

They don’t talk about what Mickey looked like that first night. They don’t discuss the blatant tears that had rolled angrily down his cheeks, or the sobs that that were so obvious through the door. Mandy quickly realized she’d much rather have her brother sobbing from ass fucking than from a broken heart. They don’t talk, but it doesn’t mean she’s not there for him. She took care of him in her own way like making sure the bills got paid on time so he had less on his plate, taking care of his artwork as it was sold to buyers, putting shitty frozen dinners in the oven and bringing him a beer without question. Mandy was a good fucking sister.

That’s what she told herself when she walked right past her job to get to Ian’s apartment. As irrational as it may be to some the Milkovichs were all about loyalty, and Mickey knew that her brother would see her checking on Ian as disloyalty. To be fair she did plan on kicking his ass when she got there. The most important part was just to get those two jackasses back together, Mickey could thank her later.

There was music blaring from Ian’s apartment once again, and Mandy had to pick the lock. A part of her instantly wished she hadn’t because the place **_reeked._** Honestly if she thought living with her nasty ass brothers and father for most of her life had made her immune to messes, Mandy Milkovich had met her match. Mickey’s painting was at the center of the disaster that was Ian’s apartment, but the rest was hard to decipher. Clothes, plates, beer bottles, bags of trash waiting to be dealt with were all rotting away. The room was dark without any of the blinds being open and boiling with the retched stench. At the kitchen table there were plates of french toast, eggs, and bacon that had to be weeks old swarming with flies. She tried to ignore all of it stepping through to Ian’s room.

There was just an Ian sized lump in the covers with golden red hair sticking out from underneath it. Suddenly the anger that she had at him for hurting her brother was replaced with pity. Her curiosity to find out what exactly had happened got the better of her as she crawled into bed and stuck her head into Ian’s back.

“You Milkovich’s sure know how to pick a lock. It makes me feel very safe in my own home.” He mumbled lifelessly.

Sarcasm. That’s a good thing, that’s a normal thing right?

“Why’d you break my brother’s heart you assface?” She whispered without her usual bite to it.

She heard the sniffle and found herself moving closer, wrapping her arms around Ian’s waist. Goddammit she loved the asshole too.

“I’m not right for Mickey Mands, I—I hurt people. I hurt everyone that I love and care about. I’m toxic and he deserves better than that. He was gonna leave I just let him off the hook.”

“What the fuck does that even mean? Everything was perfect between you two. You’re sucking each other’s dick constantly, cuddling on the damn couch like some sappy romantic comedy. What happened, did you cheat on him because I did bring my switch blade and I will kick your ass Ian, I love you but family comes first.”

“I didn’t . . . I would never do that Mandy jesus! I’m bipolar alright? I’ve got these depressed and anxiety ridden tendencies that fuck everything up for me. I’ve been laying in this exact spot having an internal debate with myself for the past three days. A part of me doesn’t give a shit about anything or anyone, and a part of me cares so much that it hurts to think about. I’ve wanted to go to Mickey since he left, but my body literally won’t let me. You don’t understand; I’m fucked up he doesn’t deserve to deal with that.”

And he was right, she didn’t understand, but she wasn’t leaving until he made her understand. That much she knew.

“So then you take meds right? Shit that stabilizes your moods. I mean I’m sure it’s not that simple but you sound like you’ve done this before so why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

He sighed. “Eventually my meds stop working and I have to go back to my doctor, get shit fixed. It just so happens that I’m too depressed to get out of bed and go to my doctor. Mick—He  caught me in the middle of an episode. But I don’t know that their episodes until they’ve happened. You should’ve seen the look on his face. I can’t believe I did that to him.”

They both seemed to shutter simultaneously; Ian remembering the look on Mickey’s face when he left his apartment, and Mandy remembering the look on his face when he arrived home. She wasn’t quite sure how to fix things between the two of them. All she knew was that her brother had never been so happy in his entire life, and that he’d managed to fall in love with the ginger haired man before her. Ian felt more like family after a month then their father had felt like in their entire lives. She couldn’t let them fuck it up because of a disorder. It wasn’t fair.

“Get up.”

She slid from under the covers and headed straight for the curtains pulling them back so that the sun showed in. Had Ian been having an episode she wouldn’t have had a chance of getting the tall ass fuck out of bed, but depression was a little more manageable. It still fucking sucked, but it was manageable. Regardless he moaned from the bed, and not in the way she was used to hearing him with Mickey, wanting nothing more than to slip under the sheets and never return.

“Nice try jackass, but as usual men are fucking useless and it’s going to take a woman to fix everything. I might as well run for fucking office at this point. Get in the shower, we’re going to the doctor and then we’re going to my house so you can love my brother. I don’t have time for him to be miserable anymore.”

That red mop of ginger hair poked hesitantly out from under the covers.

“Mickey’s in pain?”

She winced slightly but nodded, and that was all she wrote. It was slow, Ian taking his time as he crawled from his burrow of blankets and sheets, before heading for his bathroom.

Leave it to fucking Mickey to be the only thing to get him out of bed even after everything that had happened.

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

Mickey hadn’t left the bed all day. He’d just had Mandy send a shipment out over the weekend, the bills were paid, and he didn’t feel like painting, so there wasn’t much left for him to do. He’d been seriously lacking in the sleep department what with every time he closed his eyes crimson copper strands appearing. No matter what he did, Ian was always there in the back of his mind and he absolutely fucking hated it. It was his fault for letting someone in, for pretending that he wasn’t a piece of shit from the south side that didn’t get a happy ending. It wasn’t fucking realistic. The worst part was knowing that he loved him. Everything Ian had asked for Mickey gave him despite it being reluctant and with cuss words and grumbles mixed in. He’d done it. He’d become the person he secretly always wanted to be. And look where the fuck it got him. Demolished. Absolutely wrecked.

After the first night he’d wiped himself of all emotion, leaving his tears to remain soaked into his pillow where they belonged. So when Mandy arrived home he was just sitting there. Staring at the ceiling. Waiting for God to send a comet hurdling into his room, or a gas leak that killed him slowly. When she knocked on his door he was weighing the pros and cons of slipping in the shower and breaking his neck, to the book case of art supplies falling on him. Art supplies would be sort of poetic; however, his studio was farther away than the bathroom. Dammit.

“Can I come in?”  She asked before stepping into the room.

This had become routine. Mandy would knock and come in anyway, because Mickey wasn’t too much into talking these days sadly enough. She kind of missed being called a bitch by her brother. That had always been their sibling bonding time.

“I—I went to visit **_him_** today.” Mandy murmured.

She watched her brother looked as though he’d been bathed in flames, and the saddest part was knowing that was the most emotion he’d had on his face in weeks. Mandy even knew better than to say his name. She’d learned that the first time she’d mentioned the three lettered name and a plate had been thrown against the wall. That’s actually when Mickey stopped coming out of his room for as long as physically possible.

Her eyes stayed on his face as she continued hesitantly, “He told me about what happened. He feels awful about what he did to you Mick. Not that that’s okay, and I promised him as soon as he’s better I’m gonna kick his ass for what he’s done to you. I just… Mickey you were so happy with him.”

He could feel that familiar tugging sensation in his chest, the memories washing over him and crushing him with their weight. Mickey wasn’t ready for this. In fact he didn’t know if he’d ever be ready for this. The thought of thinking of Ian was actually legitimately crushing him.

“D—Don’t.” He mumbled taking deep breaths to calm himself. “He did it. H—He made me leave.”

Mickey cursed himself to the deepest pits of hell for not being able to control his own voice. Knowing that it was just him and Mandy was the only thing getting him through it.

“He’s sick Mickey. I mean not anymore he’s better, what happened was just a bit of an episode. His therapist explained it all to me. What happened that’s not who he is, and we’ve got to get him to see that or it’ll only make him feel worse.” She rushed to explain.

His eyes quickly turned to slits. “What fucking therapist?”

“I made him get out of bed and go to his therapist so that I can fix this stupid shit. You’re gonna throw this all away because he hurt your feelings? That’s ridiculous. We’re the only family he’s got out here Mick. ” Mandy insisted.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were Gallagher’s fucking mascot now, see I thought there was some clause somewhere where being my SISTER counted for something! I guess I was fucking wrong huh?!”

For the first time in God knows how long Mickey got out of bed storming out of his own goddamn room because he was so livid. Mandy winced at around the same time Mickey came face to face with Gallagher for the first time since he’d kicked him out of his apartment.

If Ian had thought that ignoring Mickey’s gaze at the apartment was helpful he was wrong. Seeing him for the first time since the incident was gut wrenching. His eyes boiled with hurt scorching Ian with their intensity. He flinched instinctively, his whole body rejecting the idea that Mickey could be in pain because of him. And he knew he deserved it all, but he loved Mickey. Something that hadn’t taken very long to figure out, yet once it had been established tormented his soul in a weirdly spectacular way as if it’d taken so much longer to come to the conclusion. His disorder had taken too much from him already; he wasn’t about to let it take Mickey away too.

“M—Mick can we talk? I just wanna explain. I owe you that much and you never have to talk to me again after I promise.” But you will, he added on mentally.

Fuck. Like Goddammit. Shit. Fucking fuck man. He still couldn’t shake this kid. Mickey felt like his entire body ached to satisfy Ian Gallagher and it was more fucking annoying than ever. At the same time as the ache he was so angry . . . so devastated by everything that this fucking idiot had managed to put him through in such a short amount of time. He wanted to hate him, tell him to get the fuck out and never come back; Mickey didn’t give a fuck about his mental disorder. It just wasn’t true though. When you love someone you voluntarily give them the power to hurt you. And as if that didn’t suck enough it also took something away from you, it took away the ability to know when to walk away. Sometimes it’s worth it, sometimes you’ve got something really special and it deserves another shot; sometimes you’re just setting yourself for more hurt, more pain. The problem was Mickey couldn’t tell which he was setting himself up for with Ian.

He doesn’t nod or even say no necessarily, but Ian just knows when he’s going to be compliant. They move towards Mickey’s studio shutting themselves inside. There’s only one piece of art left that hasn’t be wrapped up yet, and it’s left sitting on the easel. It’s quite easily the saddest thing Ian’s ever seen. The somber blues mixing with lifeless black. It’s just a pair of eyes that happen to match a certain red head’s, but it makes you feel trapped the eyes completely encapsulated in what looks like a sea of blackness. It doesn’t take much to guess the cause of Mickey’s recent shift in mood, and Ian wondered if he’d every grasp just how much he hurt him.

“Get the fuck on with it.” Mickey mumbled with crossed arms eyes looking anywhere but at Ian.

So he does. Ian tells Mickey everything. About Monica. About Frank. Kash and Ned, and all those late nights at the Fairy Tale. He does his best to explain the whys and how’s of his actions, but for some there are none. He tells him about the disorder for a long time, trying to be as descriptive and understandable as possible. He explains his specific type of bipolar disorder, his ticks, what kind of medication he’s on. It’s the most he’s ever talked about it with anyone besides his therapist before. Mandy only knew what Ian was okay with Dr. Wonder telling her and even then it wasn’t Ian who spoke the words. But with Mickey it all just came rushing out. He felt surprisingly calm with him. This was a person that had let him in despite everything in his life pointing to do the opposite. He deserved the same.

“When I said all that stuff about you not leaving, and then basically kicking you out because I was so sure that you’d leave eventually anyway it was my bullshit relationship history talking. Ned dropped me off at a clinic after getting me doped up and I had my first episode. I haven’t spoken to him since. And you didn’t deserve that, I know but . . . Mick everyone always leaves. My mom, Ned, Kash. No one’s ever been able to handle me before. For fuck’s sake I had to move to New York before I could use a non-plastic knife because my siblings thought I was gonna off myself. My own family couldn’t handle my disorder. It’s a shitty excuse and I’m being honest when I say you should leave but I don’t want you too. I—I… this time that I have with you has been some of the best moments of my entire life. I don’t want you to leave. I wanna—I wanna be with you Mickey. I wanna give you everything.”

Ian looks up just in time to catch Mickey looking down. It was so much harder to walk away than he thought it would be. His entire being had softened at some point in the two hours that Gallagher walked him through his entire life. The disorder wasn’t Ian’s fault. Growing up in South side with fucked up parents in a fucked up situation wasn’t Ian’s fault. His manic episodes, his fears of being alone; they were all caused by other things and they weren’t his fault. But goddammit they weren’t Mickey’s either.

He reached up running his thumb across his lip. It was a nervous habit that he had to keep him from doing stupid shit in emotional situations. Ian noticed and winced because the lip stroke wasn’t ever a good sign of anything.

“Look man I don’t blame you for your past because you put up with mine. And I don’t… Not wanna be with you. In fact being without you for the past few weeks has been a new low for me and I got pistol whipped by my own dad for being a fag.” He paused taking a shaky breath. “I don’t blame you for being bipolar. None of that shit matters. But you hurt me. You fucking told me to go away when I all I wanted—all I was trying to do…fuck.”

“I know. I know I hurt you I’m sorry,” Ian practically cooed slumping onto his knees and taking Mickey’s face in his hands. “I never wanna hurt you again. I’m sorry. I fucking love you Mickey.”

Mickey turned to ice underneath the taller man’s finger tips. Ian was instantly terrified that Mickey didn’t feel the same way, that he’d said the worst thing possible, but that wasn’t even remotely the problem. He’d said the right thing at the wrong fucking time. And that hurt more than anything. It wasn’t like back at the apartment, there was no pretending that he hadn’t said it. The words were precise, clear.

Mickey closed his eyes wincing.

“You used your disorder as an excuse to push me away. You made me feel like you didn’t want me. And no one’s ever wanted me before so when you did I thought that . . . You think you’re the only one to go through shit, but you’re not. I can’t . . . I can’t do that again.” He shook his head viciously trying to rid himself of the moment.

Ian’s lips parted in shock. “Mickey…”

Mickey stood up to get away from Ian’s fingers, as it became painfully obvious that he was crying. Milkovich’s don’t cry. But goddammit when was the last time he’d done anything to make himself a Milkovich?

“I need time or whatever. You can come over, hang with Mandy just . . . give me time Ian.”

He got up and left the room then leaving Ian sitting there in shock. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing, but it was all he could do to keep himself from groveling on his knees to be with Ian again. If this was love Mickey didn’t want anything to fucking do with it. And he planned on keeping it that way.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all probably hate me right now but this was legitimately my plan all along. I've read so many fics where it's about Mickey chasing Ian and what Mickey has to do to be good enough for Ian, yet we never really see it the other way around. I also wanted to incorporate Ian's disorder without him being pitied for it, so i hope these are all things you find interesting and fascinating enough to not hate me so much? I promise there's more and this and that we're just getting started with these two. As always kudos and comments are appreciated and i really can't wait to see what you guys have to say about this particular chapter so please comment good or bad :) Thank you so much for reading!


	5. The Hook Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sighed wishing relentlessly that that was the case. “No. Mandy convinced him to walk with me instead of her for today. I guess she told him she had to work or something. He’s really here out of pity I think.”
> 
> “Well I don’t know if I believe that. I mean from what you’ve told me Mickey doesn’t seem like the type to do something he doesn’t wanna do. I think if he’s here it’s because he cares Ian. We’ve talked about this idea of having a healthy relationship and it being kind of a foreign concept for you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Now you’ve hurt Mickey, and that takes time to get over and come to terms with. He’s asked you for time and you have to respect that. If a relationship is what you want than you need to make it clear. Tell him you’ll give him his space, be a friend, be whatever he needs, but at the end of the day you want an actual relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there was a lot of back lash for last chapter, much more than i expected if i'm being completely honest. It's a new fandom for me and obviously my first time writing for this fandom so i guess i'm not really used to it, but i did talk about on tumblr that i'll probably finish this story and then go back to writing strictly for Zankie just cause they seem to be a little more.... open? I don't know. It just might be easier to continue to support and love this community from a far like i did before posting this while i get some thicker skin or some shit tbh. As usual though there were some lovely comments and some really sweet stuff that i greatly appreciate which is why i'm posting this chapter early. I still love this story and i have plans for this shit so I'm not gonna let anything stop me and i think you guys will genuinely like where i take the story. So as always you can find me here: http://www.zankiefanatic.tumblr.com/ to talk and be best friends tbh, and i still appreciate the comments and critiques of course last one just took me a little by surprise. Enjoy!

The first couple days were especially hard. Despite the invitation Ian didn’t dare go anywhere near the Milkovich residence. He chose to spend his time focusing on work. The only problem was modeling wasn’t exactly the most thought provoking occupation. It left him with way too much time on his hands to think about Mickey, dream about Mickey, _miss_ Mickey. Even hanging out with Mandy left a constant bad taste in his mouth despite how much he’d grown to love her. At the same time not seeing Mickey didn’t make things any easier either. Being with Mickey had made him happy. He reminded Ian of home without all of the pain, though now Mickey came with his own stab wounds in his heart. Everything remained unsettled, and up in the air.

“I just . . . How am I supposed to know what he’s thinking if he won’t talk to me?”

Mandy rolled her eyes from the couch for the umpteenth that day. “He won’t talk to anyone at this point assface. Son of a bitch didn’t even cuss me out when I brought someone home the other night. I want my brother back.”

“You gotta help me get him back Mands. That’ll fix everything.”

“Like hell I do! You fucked up you gotta fix it. Did my baton teach you nothing?”

Ian winced reaching to touch the knot still resting at the back of his head. Mandy had promised that she owed him for hurting her brother, accident or not, and his penance had most definitely been paid. The first day she came over to hang out she’d kicked his ass and then got herself a beer to cool down from his own fucking fridge. What are friends for though right?

He groaned pitifully. “What am I gonna do?”

Mandy felt for him, she really did. And in all honesty she wanted nothing more than for her brother and Ian to be happy together. However, she knew her brother better than anyone and Mandy having ulterior motives that included Ian would only hurt their case. She’d have to be more subtle, let the two jackasses think they were getting themselves back together.

“Look why don’t you try being a friend to him? Not with the intent of getting in his pants either be fucking sincere about it. Neither of you losers have any friends besides me and it’s pathetic. Show him that you care, that you want to be a part of his life even if intimacy isn’t on the table. My brother thinks men are different but you’re really not. You two are making it more complicated than it really is.”

 “It’s not my fault! I—I’ve never met someone like Mickey before. Or been in a relationship that didn’t center around buying me shit so I didn’t out them to their wives.” Ian shrugged.

“So you’ve never been in like a stable relationship then? God you guys need therapy or some shit to work through your problems.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “I’m already in therapy remember?”

“Right . . . WAIT THAT’S IT!”

She’d slapped him in the process of her epiphany causing him to whimper and rub the sore spot on his arm. All she did was give a weird ass grin. Ian was convinced that he’d not only lost his boyfriend, but his best friend to insanity.

*                                             *                                                             *

 

Mickey was working when she interrupted. He was listening to music trying to zone out, so of course Mandy felt the need to ruin that.

“What?” He mumbled turning the music off.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Mickey wasn’t naïve enough to think that the favor would be something as simple as going to the store or taking out the trash. When Mandy asked for something it was always serious shit, because otherwise she’d insist on handling it herself. He was covered in paint and his showering habits were starting to waver again what with the whole having a seven foot ginger giant stomp on his heart. Mickey had said he needed time to think about what he wanted with Ian, but the fact that he’d yet to come around and bother him was starting to . . . well bother him.

“So?” He asked getting up to grab more paint from a shelf.

“I . . . sort of promised Ian that I would go with him to his therapy sessions. He says it makes him more confident in going if someone’s there with him. I promised his therapist too. It’s for you know health reasons, make sure he goes.”

It takes everything in Mickey’s power not to throw a full fledge temper tantrum because how fucking dare she.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snapped.

She sighed. “I have to work Mick. I tried to get out of it but my boss is doing some mandatory staff meeting. Please, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t impossible.”

Mickey looked down playing with his paint just to calm himself down a little. It’s amazing how much it hurts. The betrayal. He tells himself that she’s not going to see him when she leaves the apartment, but he knows that she is. And the anger and the overwhelming pity he feels inside has little to do with her and more to do with the fact that he wishes it was him instead of her going to see Gallagher every day. Regardless Mickey doesn’t understand it. It must be obvious how hurt he is. Milkovichs don’t pick random people over family ever. So why is it so easy for her.

“How can you care so much about him after what he did? I mean what about me?” He mumbled no base in his voice.  

Mandy bit her lip. “Because you care about him. You’re hurt right now, but I know that you want him to be alright while you get through this and if it means letting you bite my head off just so that you’re happy later than I guess I’ll fucking do it. He wants to be with you Mick. As anything that you’ll give him. Why don’t you trying being his friend, getting to know him a little bit before you shove his dick up your ass.”

“Fuck you.” But it lacked his usual bite.

“Please Mick? Just go with him this one time. I’ll never ask you for anything again.”

Yea fucking right. But what exactly was he gonna say? Sorry Mandy, but I cannot take my ex-boyfriend to therapy because it’ll make me miss him too much and I’ll take him back immediately and we’ll probably end up fucking in the bathroom. Mickey didn’t know what he was waiting on with Ian; he just knew he needed time to come to terms with everything. He also knew he needed Ian to give him a reason to be with him again, and that if he ignored him for the rest of his life he’d never get the chance. It was an infuriating predicament to be in.

“Jesus fucking Christ fine. Tell firecrotch to bring me a coffee with the whip cream the way I fucking like it.” Mickey mumbled heading to take a shower.

Mandy just stood back and grinned. It was as easy as pie with those two.

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

Mickey sat on the couch chain smoking cigarette after cigarette while he worked on a sketch. It wasn’t necessarily for work, just something to keep him busy. Ian was on his way over for fucking therapy, and Mickey was taking all precautions to be okay with that. He’d jerked off twice in the shower, but that had been to the mental image of Ian, so he wasn’t so sure whether that counted as a step forward or backward. Two shots of whiskey just to take the edge off, and he’d considered fishing the weed out of Mandy’s room, but figured he didn’t need Ian thinking he’d lost him mind just because they weren’t together anymore.

When a knock came on the door he knew it was Ian, could sense the hesitance in every pounding of his fist. He might have moved a little too fast to get that door out of the way. He might have missed Ian so much it haunted his every waking thought. He might be so fucking in love with that red headed douche that it was ridiculous. But if any of these things were true he didn’t let it show.

“Hey.” Ian murmured looking up sheepishly.

Holy shit he was more beautiful than Ian even remembered. It was kind of ridiculous. Were his eyes more blue? Like had the ocean just fucking appeared within his pupils? Asking Ian to not be in love with that face was impossible. He had seen him, and fuck did he want him. Therapy couldn’t come soon enough.

“Thanks for . . . you know. You could’ve told Mandy no. I—I’m a big boy.”

_Yes. You. Are. Goddammit stop that._

“Whatever let’s hit the road Firecrotch.” Mickey mumbled moving past a mesmerized Ian.

“Ah so no more Ian?” he smirked quickly keeping stride with Mickey.

“Boyfriends get called by their first names not dickhead exes.”

That sent Ian into silence which is what Mickey thought he wanted. Just to take the kid to fucking therapy and go home and get back to his art. But Ian not talking was so rare that it almost kind of irritated him. They were walking along the street, Ian leading the way and he wouldn’t talk; wasn’t his usually bubbly and intoxicating self. Even after everything he’d put him through, Mickey found that he didn’t like hurting him. He was tall and had strong shoulders, and a cocky grin that made you think he was confident, but Mickey knew better. He knew there was always a little morsel of insecurity underneath all of his strong bravado.

“Jesus it was a fucking joke would you relax already?” He groaned.

Ian shrugged stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I knew that.”

“Sure.”

They kept walking. Ian trying not to annoy Mickey too much with his voice, and Mickey just waiting for him to start talking cause he knew he couldn’t control himself.

“Mick do you hate me? I—I mean are you always gonna hate me?”

_Dammit it’s too early for this shit._

“I don’t know man I haven’t decided yet.” 

“Do you miss me? At all?”

_Only every second that I have the displeasure of being awake. And then there’s that thing where you appear in my dreams and fuck me so hard I lose consciousness, that’s always nice._

“We didn’t even date that long Ian.”

That caused a very not so good look on Ian’s face that just twisted the knife even deeper.

_Nice fucking going you idiot you hurt his feelings! You fucking love him stop hurting him!_

“Yea, of course I do. Now stop asking me questions this ain’t one of your fucking sessions.”

Mickey’s never been so relieved to arrive at a destination than the second Ian directed them inside his Doctor’s office. A woman quickly came to greet Ian looking him over with eyes that only a therapist could possess. She gave the same look to Mickey before ushering the taller man into her office and leaving Mickey to flick through stupid fucking magazines for the next century. Why had he agreed to this again? Oh that’s right. Fucking Ian.

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

“That man outside, would you like to tell me who he is?”

Ian felt his face warm and looked down playing with his fingers.

“That’s Mickey.”

“Oh so things have changed since your last visit? Are you two back together?”

He sighed wishing relentlessly that that was the case. “No. Mandy convinced him to walk with me instead of her for today. I guess she told him she had to work or something. He’s really here out of pity I think.”

“Well I don’t know if I believe that. I mean from what you’ve told me Mickey doesn’t seem like the type to do something he doesn’t wanna do. I think if he’s here it’s because he cares Ian. We’ve talked about this idea of having a healthy relationship and it being kind of a foreign concept for you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Now you’ve hurt Mickey, and that takes time to get over and come to terms with. He’s asked you for time and you have to respect that. If a relationship is what you want than you need to make it clear. Tell him you’ll give him his space, be a friend, be whatever he needs, but at the end of the day you want an actual relationship. “

Ian mulls this over trying to think of all the different scenarios that could play out with telling Mickey Milkovich such a thing. It makes him feel queasy inside, and he doesn’t like it.

“Can we talk about something else now?” He mumbled.

“Of course. You wanna talk about your family?”

“No Laura I don’t wanna talk about my fucking family. I left Chicago for a reason.”

He sighed and leaned his head back on the couch. He could already tell he was in for a rough one.

 

*                                                             *                                             *

“Took you long enough, I’ve had to piss for the past twenty minutes.” Mickey groaned.

Ian bit his lip to hide a smile. “Why didn’t you just ask the receptionist where the bathroom was at Mick?”

“Cause that would be too easy now wouldn’t it?”

“The bathroom’s down that hall and on the left. I’m gonna wait outside. I need some air.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow looking Ian over finally. The taller man looked tired, exhausted even. He wanted to ask what the fuck went on in those sessions of his. How could therapy be any good if it made you look so unhappy afterwards? He wondered if Ian had said anything about him to his therapist. Then it occurred to him that maybe there was deeper shit going on his life than some used-to-be thug that couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to be with him. That stuck with him though, because there was a fundamental need to make sure Ian was okay, and the idea of something bothering him didn’t sit too well with Mickey.

“Don’t think I forgot about my coffee that you didn’t bring me man.”

He pulled his jacket back on, thankful for the release of his bladder, before fumbling with his lighter and a cigarette.

Ian smiled sadly. “I know. I thought if I could convince you to get it afterwards I might get to spend more time with you.”

“Fuck Ian,” He sighed breathing in nicotine. “you always gotta make shit so heavy.”

“Yea I have a habit of doing that I’m sorry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “We getting my fucking coffee or what? I want breakfast too after how long you made me wait. Let’s find a Denny’s or some shit.”

He stalked off down the street waiting for long denim clad legs to quickly over step him. They managed to find a Denny’s not too far from Mickey’s apartment. Due to the fact that gingerdick was paying, Mickey took it upon himself to order the biggest stack of pancakes known to man. Ian watched in horror as he drowned an entire bottle of syrup on top of the stack of pancakes, and he didn’t know if it was possible to be more in love and still be mortified of that person.

“Mick that stack is almost as tall as you are.” He insisted.

Mickey rolled his eyes talking with his mouth full, “Fuck off I’m hungry! You had me sitting there for hours, what did you guys even talk about for so long?”

“It’s was only a forty-five minute session.” Ian smiled ruefully.

It was incredible how much he could still be so happy with just being around Mickey. All the weight of therapy and reliving memories that had haunted him for years just disappeared. It didn’t make any sense and he couldn’t explain it if you paid him, but he didn’t care. Being with Mickey made him happy, and for someone like Ian when happiness was often times nowhere to be found, it meant everything.

“We talked about you for a little while.” Ian admitted pushing his eggs around his plate.

Mickey looked up from his mountain of pancakes. “The fuck you talk about me for?”

Ian found that statement incredibly amusing, as if there were more pressing matters in his life at the moment besides Mickey.

“Um I happen to have very strong feelings for you. I care about you a lot and the thought of me being the cause of any form of pain in your life literally keeps me up at night. Not sleeping next to you feels like a cruel form of punishment even. You are the closet thing I’ve ever gotten to a stable relationship even if it barely lasted a month, and that has a lot to do with my treatment. I guess I thought that was self-explanatory.” He shrugged.

Mickey just stared at him, jaw hanging open in shock. It always confused him that Ian was so blunt and honest. Despite his roots, Mickey had this belief that his business was his business alone, anyone that felt different could fuck off, but Ian? Ian sometimes couldn’t get his lips to move fast enough. It was like talking helped him or something, a foreign concept to the older man. He dropped his gaze back to his plate and kept eating.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Worry so much about me. I’m not anything to lose sleep over.” Mickey insisted.

Ian rolled his eyes. “I’ll stop thinking about you when you stop thinking about me.”

Well, he had him there. It was the craziest thing in the world, this idea of two people desperately wanting to be together yet not being together. Mickey didn’t understand it either. Maybe it was just too easy to take Ian back. Maybe he just wanted to be stubborn and give him a hard time. Or maybe Ian pushing him away just really fucking hurt. Having the first person you ever let in tell you things are better off without you, doesn’t exactly make you want to give things another go. He was scared. And Mickey had gone to great lengths to make sure he never had to be scared again, so this back and forth thing he and Ian had going on was just bringing up unnecessary shit.

“When I asked you to give me time I didn’t mean that I wanted you to hound me about us every two seconds and fucking use subliminal messages to hint at us getting back together. I meant give me actual time to understand why I can’t get you out of my head. You can’t force yourself on me after what you did. It just ain’t fucking fair Gallagher.”

Ian got that wounded puppy look on his face almost instantly. He could handle when Mickey cussed him out, could handle the nicknames, and the unusual distain for public displays of affection. It was only when Mickey truly refused him that the pain settled in, and it was almost unbearable.

“I know. I know it’s not fair and that’s what we talked about. I just wanna be your friend. I wanna be anything that you’re okay with. I just can’t go every day and not see you Mickey. We should still be able to do this.” He said gesturing between them and the table of food. “You can still paint me. We can still drink beer and watch movies and talk about how shitty south side was. If sex is the only thing that leaves the table then I’m fine with that just as long as I don’t lose you.”

Mickey couldn’t help but think this is exactly why he’d never been in a relationship before. All this talking about your feelings every single fucking minute, it was exhausting. How dare he say he’d be okay with just hanging out and not fucking. That was so . . . cute. Mickey didn’t want cute, cute meant figuring shit out. It would’ve been so much easier if Ian could just do him a solid and be a dick and want to fuck and nothing more. When did just fucking and not talking go out the window?

“Oh my god you’re so gay.” He moaned shoving his face into his pancakes.

That was the last they talked of the subject.

*                                                             *                                                             *

“What time does Mandy come home?” Ian asked throwing his coat off to the side.

“Fuck should I know man? I’m not her keeper.”

Mickey headed off to go do god knows what leaving Ian on the couch. He noticed that his ex’s sketch book lay unopened in the space beside him and took it upon himself to open it up. Maybe he’d gone looking for a sketch of his eyes again, maybe even a little face shot, but what he got was so much better. Mickey must’ve committed his body to memory because the detailed sketches on his nakedness everywhere was astounding even to him. It was kind of adorable that he still drew him. In Ian’s mind it meant he still had a chance. As long as he wasn’t sketching some other dude’s dick, he had a shot.

“I’m not sure if my dick’s that big, but I do appreciate the added girth.” Ian chuckled as Mickey made his way back into the room.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! SEE THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, GODDAMMIT GALLAGHER!”

He snatched his sketch book out of Ian’s hands cheeks a flaming crimson color.

“Oh Mickey stop being so fucking over dramatic, it’s a really good drawing. You should draw me again sometime.”

Because the normal reaction to find a drawing of your own penis is to have that person get up close and personal.

“Why the hell would I do that?” His eyebrow rose to meet his hairline.

“Uh because you like to draw and I like to lay there and look pretty? Come on Mick I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.” The redhead smirked.

“Could you get any gayer?”

“Why don’t you shove my dick up your ass and we’ll find out.”

Fucking Gallagher.

*                                                             *                                                             *

 

 “Excuse me what in the all fucks are you doing?”

“Jesus ya fucking Grinch what could you possibly be complaining about now?” Ian retorted tugging at his jeans.

“I said I would draw you not your dick, keep your fucking pants on no one needs to see that thing this early in the morning.”

Ian rolled his eyes but complied buckling his belt. “It’s almost noon dickhead.”

“My point exactly asswipe. Now stay still would you, I like to take my time with your eyes.”

This caused a smile to form on Ian’s lips.  He found those moments when Mickey would accidently let his feelings show made up for all the times he pretended he didn’t give a shit about anything. So, they sat there for a while in a peaceful silence, Mickey drawing, and Ian just looking up at the ceiling. It was almost like that first day. That first time where they’d just met and everything had still been simple because they barely knew each other. Then Ian just had to go and shove his dick where it didn’t belong, but he couldn’t find it within him to regret it. How could what they’d become be wrong? Even if there was pain and even if things weren’t perfect, he still felt amazing just knowing Mickey. And he knew that friendship would never be enough, knew he would always want Mickey to give him more, to give him the love that he knew he was capable of giving.

“What are you looking at?” Ian smiled softly.

He’d looked back up to see that Mickey was no longer drawing but just staring curiously as him.

His cheeks instantly flushed. “N—Nothing. Just wondering what you were thinking so hard about.”

It was Ian’s turn to blush. “You don’t wanna know.”

“If I didn’t wanna know I wouldn’t have asked Gallagher.”

His eyes rested heavily on Mickey’s lips. “I just was kinda thinking of the first time we had sex.”

Mickey winced and closed his eyes. “Fuck me, of course that’s what you were thinking about. Don’t you ever think about the economy or the weather or something fucking normal for a change?”

“I didn’t mean to Mick I was just thinking about the first time I came here for work and that eventually led to me fucking you like that’s a fact, that’s a thing that happened.”’

When Mickey opened his eyes again, Ian was staring at him with those big wonderful eyes that drove him insane. It was so frustrating for him to fucking look like that. His skin was so pale, a small amount of freckles splattered gingerly across the flesh. It was the worst. To look at him was both a curse and a gift. That familiar tension entered the air. They shared those little quick looks of temptation, both of them realizing what it was they wanted in that moment. It was wrong. So wrong. They weren’t together so they couldn’t fuck, Mickey knew that. So all he had to do was to not fuck Ian. Just don’t do it . . . don’t….

“Oh fuck it.” He spat throwing his sketchbook to the side.

He climbed up on top of Ian kissing him like his life depended on it. It became almost painful for the two of them. Their teeth crashed together as they licked inside each other’s mouths. Ian’s hands came up to cradle Mickey’s face pulling his body closer desperately. It wasn’t romantic or even passionate necessarily. It was sloppy. It was uncoordinated. It was needy. They only got rid of the bare minimum of clothing. Mickey was grinding himself down so hard on Ian’s lap that it was actually astounding that penetration hadn’t been achieved. Due to how long it’d been since they’d had sex Mickey knew he wouldn’t be able to take on Gallagher without lube. But there was the dilemma of not wanting to get up, of knowing that his head would become less clouded by pale pink lips and ginger hair. And in that moment he didn’t want to be right. He wanted to be wrong and dirty with Ian Gallagher.

“Fuck stay here.” He demanded climbing off the other man.

Just as he feared being away from Ian for any length of time gave his conscious a jolt to start working again. He ignored it though, suppressing every emotion that wouldn’t get him laid.

“We’re not back together firecrotch. We both need to fuck and your dick is big and that’s as far as this goes.” He insisted lubing Ian up.

“Sure, sure just fucking get on me already.”

Mickey couldn’t help but smirk at his apparent influence on his favorite redhead. He straddled Ian’s hips taking him so painfully slow it almost killed both of them in the process. Ian reached out to touch him, but he was having none of that. The less contact they made the easier it would all be afterwards.

“Jesus . . . ugh fuck d—don’t touch me.” He mumbled beginning that beautiful swirling motion of his hips.

Ian moaned. “Damn, that’s it Mickey.”

He had no problem letting Mickey take control, not when his dick riding skills were that amazing. Mickey rested one hand on Ian’s shoulder while he rode him steady and fast. The couch creaked beneath them as they doled out a relentless assault on each other. It was maddening that one dick could feel that good. Mickey hated himself the entire time, but he needed it. Needed to feel Gallagher plowing through the tightness of his walls and hitting that small bundle of nerves just to drive him crazy.

“Oh shit . . . Mmm fuck!” He choked out.

His hips started to lose control the faster he moved and he loved every fucking second of it.

“I’m gonna cum.” Ian panted grabbing at Mickey’s cock with shaky fingers.

It was over as quick as it started, Ian pumping Mickey and Mickey tightening down on Ian until that beautiful sticky eruption occurred and they collapsed blissful and more fucking confused than ever.

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

“Come here let me sniff you.”

Ian rolled his eyes playfully. “Don’t you think you’re being just a smidge overdramatic?”

“Fuck no! If my sister finds out we fucked after breaking up I’ll never hear the end of it.”

The windows had been opened for the past forty-five minutes to rid the apartment of the scent of their fucking. Ian was too goofily happy to care. He’d gone against everything Mandy and Dr. Wonder told him and he had not a fuck in the world to give. It’s not like he was naïve enough to think they could have sex and everything would be okay, but maybe he was crazy enough to feel content with it. Being intimate with Mickey meant something to Ian. It didn’t matter what anyone else had to say. When you love someone it’s no longer just fucking. You can call it that, but there’s always an underlying feel in the way that you move together and the way that you give yourself to each other. That didn’t change just because they’d broken up. Maybe that’s why they say not to fuck your exes.

“Oh Ian, good you’re still here, I brought food. How was therapy?” Mandy asked setting a pizza box on the kitchen counter.

Mickey and Ian shared a look that didn’t go unnoticed by Mandy, but she chose not to bring it up.

“It was rough today. She keeps trying to talk about certain shit that I don’t wanna talk about. It’s the point of therapy I get it, but sometimes she pushes too hard. That stuff hurts, it’s not shit I wanna bring up on a Tuesday morning because you made my ex-boyfriend chaperone me like a nutcase.”

She rolled her eyes. “I promised Dr. Wonder I’d accompany you for a while. I don’t break promises ya little fuck get over it. You don’t have to do everything alone now you have me. And this shithead.”

It was the first time they’d addressed Mickey who was nursing his beer to avoid the awkwardness of his ex and his sister being best friends. When had that happened anyway? It felt like they spent all of their time fucking and talking to each other, when was Mandy even able to steal him away? It’s not like he was jealous of his sister or anything. He had no reason to be jealous; because Ian had made it very clear when Mickey was ready he could have him. Still it hurt. Still it upset him, and the fact that he was upset about it at all, upset him even further.

Mickey raised an eyebrow and grunted. Actions speak louder than words supposedly.

“I should go. I uh got a paper due tomorrow and the day kind of got away from me.” Ian sighed pulling Mandy in for a hug. “I’ll call you.”

“Be careful out there. It’s fucking cold as all hell.”

“Thanks Mom.” He grinned earning a soft slap from her.

He headed towards the door not at all surprised that Mickey had still yet to say a word to him. Man can take a dick up his ass all day long, but somehow his words just constantly escaped him.

“I’ll see you later Mick. Thanks for . . . you know being there.”

He doesn’t even give Mickey a chance to say anything, just leaves, and that frustrates Mickey to no points end. Not that he would’ve actually said anything, but some common courtesy would be nice.  It frustrates him that Ian knows when he is and isn’t going to speak. It frustrates him that Ian doesn’t stay for dinner. It frustrates him that there’s a bite mark on his collar bone that he can feel just standing there. It frustrates him that he fucking loves Ian, but he still can’t take him back. So Mickey goes to bed that night frustrated and horny and in love above all else, and he wishes with everything in him that Ian would just take him already. Mickey doesn’t feel strong enough anymore, and that frustrates him worst of all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	6. Meeting The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian doesn’t have time to beat around the bush with Mickey when he feels like the whole world is coming to an end. He wants to feel grounded, wants to feel something tangible enough to keep him sane. And that’s Mickey. It’s always been Mickey. He kissed him so hard Mickey swore he felt it in his bones. There was no time for questions or for stopping or for making good decisions because Ian was in pain and Mickey was the only one who could take that pain away.

Mandy was like a safe haven for Ian. She would come over or let him over whenever he asked, and he felt like he could tell her anything. The only thing he'd known about her in south side was her reputation, but she'd managed to easily become his best friend. He didn't mind helping her pick out outfits for dates, or spending time at the bar she worked at. It was nice to have someone to go to. It was nice to forget about things when she was around.

"I just don't understand where assholes get the nerve to hit on me and get offended that I don't want them when my dick is bigger than theirs." Mandy complained.

Ian laughed. "Awwww no luck with mr. Green eyes?"

"Fuck no. He was the most boring human I've ever met. Then had the nerve to hump my fucking leg on that cab ride home. I didn't even get laid that night it was terrible."

"You know you deserve better than one night stands. There are nice guys out there Mands."

She rolled her eyes but smile playfully. "I know I just have a built in asshole magnet. I could've had you but you had to go and fuck my brother."

"Yea sorry about that." He chuckled.

"Hey you think we could stay in tonight? Just rent a movie, order takeout, complain about the men in our life? Or lack thereof."

That lopsided grin formed slowly on his lips. He loved Mandy, and often times felt this need to protect her just so she didn't have to be so strong all the time. Anything she asked he'd happily do.

"Of course. I'll bring the booze."

Meanwhile in Mickey Land, Mickey was at a meeting about his art work again. A new exhibit had seen his work that he did with Ian and wanted to put one of his pieces in a show of theirs. Apparently though they didn't get the memo that his work had only been bought for around two hundred bucks, because they were offering two grand. Mickey figured that just because he didn't live in south side anymore didn't mean he couldn't use some of his old ways to get a pay day.

He managed to convince them that the other art director had offered him five grand, which wasn't technically a lie. The fact that the five grand had been for every piece he had in the show was just a technicality. After a lot of talking and lot of negotiating, they settled on a seven grand pay day if he threw in an original piece to go with it as well. It was moments like that, that really made Mickey happy. Getting paid for his art made everything he'd been through completely worth it. Looking into his bank account and seeing six digits from years of saving was completely satisfying. 

"Yo what are you doing tonight?" Mickey asked Mandy over the phone.

"Ian and I are doing movie night at the apartment why?"

"Call up Jeremy, get the good shit. I'm buying. Suckers gave me seven grand for two pieces. Tell Gallagher to take his meds too it's almost six."

“You want me to change his diapey too?” She chuckled.

“No but you can shut the fuck up if you really wanna make me happy.”

He hung up on her before she could make any kind of snarky reply. Mickey figured that if Gallagher was gonna spend every second of his free time at his place he might as well make sure the fucker didn’t lose his mind again. They didn’t talk about the whole “we totally fucked on my couch” thing. Apparently they were both pretty okay with pretending that never happened. Mickey didn’t think about all the sex he could have with Ian if he just stopped being stubborn and took him back. Ian didn’t think about all the subliminal messages that could’ve existed. They took it for what it was and mostly forgot about it . . . kind of.

They spent more time together. Ian was always over anyways taking up all of Mandy’s attention so Mickey would usually sit out with them and draw or whatever while they watched some terrible chick flick. Sometimes he’d show up and Mandy wouldn’t be home yet, so they would drink beer and try not to be awkward. Ian was still the only one that Mickey trusted his art with, and every now again he’d show him a drawing or a painting. Every time Ian always insisted that it was amazing, a true masterpiece, and every time Mickey told him to fuck off. He always smiled though. It was just something that couldn’t be avoided with Ian.

“How’s Calculus with Analytical Geometry one going?” He asked Ian.

Mickey wasn’t sure when he started knowing Ian’s classes by heart let alone the classes that he struggled the most with. Gallagher was staring so coldly at the book in front of him Mickey thought he could see icicles form. It’s not like he had anything better to do while they waited for pizza and drugs, so this was totally justifiable.

“Terrible. I am stupid. I am a fucking idiot for thinking I could do anything more than miserably fail this class. I’m not even good at math Mick what the fuck am I doing?” He whined.

“Oh quit your bitching Firecrotch it can’t be that bad.”

Mickey took a seat next to Ian leaning in to look at the book with him. Ian was suddenly very aware of just how close the dark haired man was, the smell of his body wash wafting deliciously into his nostrils. He just watches Mickey stare at the book for a minute. He’s mumbling something to himself and those wonderful eyebrows are pulled together into one squiggly line. Ian kind of forgets what they were even talking about because Mickey’s in front of him biting down on that beautiful bottom lip that would look so fucking good with his cock between . . .  _Jesus Ian get a hold of yourself._

“The answer is negative four.” Mickey finally mumbled.

He reached over and took Ian’s pencil away before scribbling on the paper. The movement caused his chest to touch Ian’s bicep and never had calculus been so fucking hot. Trying to focus, he looked over as Mickey walked him step by step through the problem as if it was fourth grade math instead of college level calculus. Ian wasn’t even sure if Mickey went to the fourth grade.

“What the fuck Mickey?” He gasped after checking his answer with the one in the book.

Mickey just shrugged puffing on a cigarette. “I was good at math too. Just didn’t care enough to actually do anything with it.”

“You realize of course you’ve just given me a Calculus boner right? Like the only points about to be plotted are the points around this house in which I want to fuck you. I’m more attracted to you than ever before.”

Mickey laughed shoving playfully at Ian’s shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up man, you’re so fucking stupid.”

“Hard to get is getting me hard to be quite honest.”

Mandy finally intervened. “No sex games until I’ve eaten fucktards.”

Ian sighed. “Fine I’ll wait until after pizza to hit on your brother.”

“Thanks babe.” She giggled kissing his cheek.

“Jesus Christ I’m gonna need more than drugs to get through a night with you two.”

It was really weird how the three of them just ended up spending all of their time together. It’s like they all moved to New York to specifically ignore every other New Yorker in existence, and hang with the only two people from South Side they could find. Neither of them minded though, it always felt nice to be with one another. Even with the weird creepy sexual tension that never seemed to fully leave the room when Mickey and Ian were in it, they managed. It became kind of routine for them in a way, and they all seemed to like it.

Mickey bought weed, coke, and a couple tabs of ecstasy that night. The ecstasy was more for Mandy and the coke was more for Mickey. They didn’t do it often, but everyone had their weapon of choice and Mickey felt pretty happy with his weapon, until fucking Gallagher felt the need to stick his nose into shit it didn’t belong.

“What’d you get me?” He asked looking too fucking hot as he swallowed a piece of pizza.

Really though, what the fuck is up with him and looking like a model? Oh that’s right, he is one.

“Um it’s called your fucking medication it comes in those little boxes with the days of the week on ‘em.”

Mickey was busy alternating between smoking his roach and eating his pizza. There was no space for Gallagher’s bull shit.

“I can have fun too Mick.” He pouted adorably.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yea sure you can just not with my fucking coke.”

“Okay then give me some E.” He said directing his attention to Mandy.

Mickey chose to answer for her.

“No you can’t have that either.”

Ian was starting to get a little frustrated. Just because he was in love with him didn’t mean he didn’t think he was a fucking idiot sometimes.

“Well why the fuck not Mickey?!” The redhead began to argue.

Mandy just shook her head and ignored the two fuck nuggets swallowing her ecstasy with a sip of beer and enjoying her pizza like a normal fucking person. Meanwhile, there was Mickey who was trying not to show that he cared about Ian, and the shithead was making it fairly difficult.

“Because I fucking said so that’s why Gallagher!”

“I wanna have fun too! You’re not my goddamn mother!”

Mickey took a deep breath pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger in utter frustration.

“Goddamit Ian you wanna get fucked up and possibly end up in a downward spiral again for one night of fun you go do that some-fucking-where else where no one gives a rat’s ass about you alright? Be my guest, but here in this apartment, with me here, it ain’t fucking happening. So shut the fuck up, eat your pizza, and stop bitching at me!”

He tried his best not to look at the dumbass he really did. He knew what he would find when he did. For at least a solid minute he was able to eat his pizza, smoke his weed, and forget that he cared way too much about Ian Gallagher. At first it was just a peak, a glance out the corner of his eye. But goddammit he was wearing that beautiful grin that Mickey just wanted to lick off. Every single time he thought maybe things were beginning to get simpler with the two of them Gallagher just had to fucking ruin it. Mickey was beginning to think nothing was ever going to be simple with the two of them.

“Okay.” Ian said smiling dripping from his voice.

He boldly reached over and kissed Mickey on the cheek before taking his joint from him and slipping it between his lips. Mickey had never wanted to punch someone so much in his entire life while still having an unnatural desire to suck their dick it wasn’t very fun.

*                                                                             *                                                             *

Ian was not in a good emotional state. Tears stung in his eyes threatening him with every passing second to drip down his numb cheeks. He didn’t know where he was going when he ran away from his apartment, or maybe he knew exactly where he was going and his subconscious mind wanted to keep that shit a secret. Instead he ran through the familiar streets in the New York city night fighting tears the whole way not stopping to even breathe until he was pounding on the very familiar door.

“What fuck do you—Gallagher it’s three in the fucking morning didn’t you just leave like two hours ago?” Mickey yawned eyes barely open.

“I—I need to see you. I need you.”

It took him a second to fully wake up before he saw Ian for what he was. The fear and anxiety was written plain across his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, tooth sunken harshly into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, and his eyes were dangerously watery. Whatever it was, it was serious.

“What are you talking about man?”

Ian doesn’t have time to beat around the bush with Mickey when he feels like the whole world is coming to an end. He wants to feel grounded, wants to feel something tangible enough to keep him sane. And that’s Mickey. It’s always been Mickey. He kissed him so hard Mickey swore he felt it in his bones. There was no time for questions or for stopping or for making good decisions because Ian was in pain and Mickey was the only one who could take that pain away.

They stumbled back towards Mickey’s room not even attempting to not be heard by Mandy. Ian was leading the show and due to his lack of stability it’s safe to assume that common sense had left the building. He ripped desperately at Mickey’s clothes refusing to give the other man time to speak or catch up to him. His fingers were still shaking as he tugged on the older man’s underwear falling ceremonially to the floor. When his mouth was on Mickey there was no going back. That mouth was too fucking warm and wet and tight in every sense of the word, and there was no way in hell he was going to push the red head away.

Ian ran his hands over the pale globes of Mickey’s ass kneading and clawing at the flesh while swallowing his cock whole. His lips were relentless, tongue tracing every vein and curve perfectly as saliva began to pool in his cheeks. Mickey tugged avidly at the strands of red hair already feeling the familiar ache in his balls. His head leaned restlessly against the door trying to hold back his orgasm and failing miserably. Those lips were made for sucking, that’s just all there is to it.

“Fuck Gallagher!” He hissed his fingers trailing down the back of Ian’s neck as he came.

Ian gulped down as much as he could, his lips red and swollen as they released his lover’s dick with a soft plop. He wasn’t done with Mickey yet though, not by a long shot. Biting his lip he quickly tossed the smaller man onto his bed before climbing in and claiming him as his own. In a world where nothing ever made sense, and he constantly struggled to get a grip Ian didn’t have to worry when it came to fucking Mickey. He could always get a grip on those hips, could always make Mickey cum so good it hurt. And he knew that, so he fell back to what he knew, and wished desperately that he never had to think about anything else ever again.

 

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

Mickey reached over to the bed side table for his smokes needing the nicotine after the pounding his body had just experienced. After a month of not touching Gallagher he’d thought he was finally getting himself together, but damn was he wrong. Ian was lying with his head on a pillow peering up at the ceiling and thinking about something. Whatever it was had caused the redhead to come crying to Mickey’s worthless ass and then fuck the living hell out of him. He sat up against the headboard that he’d been so mercilessly pounded into just moments before and peered over at Ian’s reserved face.

“You wanna tell what the fuck that was about?” He asked exhaling smoke through his nostrils.

“Not really.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “So you just show up at my apartment at three in the morning crying, jump me, and now you don’t wanna talk about it? Ian Gallagher the talkingest motherfucker I’ve ever met has nothing to say?”

“Pretty much.”

Ian took it upon himself to get out of bed and begin pulling his clothes back on hastily, which only fueled Mickey’s curiosity to find out what the fuck was wrong with him. Two worded answers wasn’t accomplishing jack shit, and if he was being honest with himself Mickey was scared of Ian not being okay.

“Hey, hey just sit down would ya? Where are you gonna go this early anyway?”

Ian hesitated peering at Mickey with sad, terrified eyes, his pupils dilated from their previous acts of passion. It only took a slight shove from the smaller man to get him to sit back down on the bed where he belonged. Mickey took that as his chance to pull some boxers on before taking a seat next to Ian on the bed.

“Look we can’t,” He started. “We can’t do that anymore Gallagher. No matter how good it is, it only makes this harder for both of us.”

“Won’t happen again, promise.” Ian mumbled.

“What the fuck is going on with, you didn’t just show up at my house for a booty call what happened?”

Finally, he broke. The tears he’d tried so hard to keep in came rushing out harder than he knew what to do with. Holding his face in his hands, Ian let the sadness take over trembling his body with its strength.

“Oh fuck d—don’t do, that.” Mickey mumbled his heart breaking further.

But he couldn’t help it. One he gave in it was as if he was drowning in it. He kicked and failed against the current only to be struck down by the weight of the unrelenting fear. Mickey didn’t need to understand the logistics; he just needed Gallagher to stop crying at that point.

“Ian look at me, please?”

Maybe it was the use of his actual name or just the soothing calmness of the other man’s voice, but slowly Ian lifted his head. It broke Mickey’s heart to see him that way, so obviously hurting instead of suppressing it like he usually did. Ian could tell that he cared, and it meant the absolute world to him to see. He couldn’t have been any deeper in love with him in that moment.

“M—My family’s coming to visit. I haven’t seen them since I left south side, and they’re bringing Frank.”

When Ian had told Mickey everything he hadn’t exactly told him _everything_. It wasn’t unrealistic though to dread a family visit. He’d told him enough to understand why it was enough to make him cry. All Mickey knew was that Ian hated his father; it was something they had in common, and he’d take Ian’s side on the matter regardless of the entire story.

“That’s rough. Where they stayin?”

Ian sighed lying back on the bed. “Some hotel. Fiona’s got a steady job for once. Lips wants to celebrate graduating college, thought this was the best way to do it I guess. I just . . .  Why would they bring Frank? How could they do that to me? They know what he’s done.”

Mickey moved slowly to lie beside Ian, trying desperately to come up with a way to make him happy again.

“Did I ever tell you why I left South side?”

The red head rolled so that he was facing what he was convinced was the love of his life. He shook his head softly.

“My dad he uh caught me fucking some dude. We’d gotten into this argument over a drug deal, pissed me off so much I waited for him to drive to Indiana with my brothers on a run, invited some random guy over. Terry came back a little early though. It was pretty bad. He kind of hired this prostitute to screw the fag out of me. Made the other guy watch and that was without the beat down for taking it up the ass. Two broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, fucked my face up pretty good too. I couldn’t draw shit for months. Soon as I was healed enough to move Mandy and I made some cash packed our shit up and left for NY, never looked back either. I don’t… I guess I just wanted you to know that I get it. You’ll get through it though. You’re tough firecrotch.” He explained nudging him softly.

“Mick I . . .”

“Don’t say anything. You’re sorry I know. I’m good with it I am I just had to get the fuck outta there is all. You did to. It’s understandable.”

Ian nodded before looking up at him hesitantly with those beautiful piercing eyes.

“Would you come with me?”

You give the kid an inch and he takes a fucking mile, Jesus Christ.

Mickey instantly groaned. “NO! For fuck sakes Gallagher we’re not even together anymore what would I look like meeting your family?”

“Like a good friend who cares about my mental wellbeing.” He grinned wickedly.

Using his own mental disorder to his advantage, what a prick.

“You’re a dick.”

“Please? I promise I’ll never fuck you again if you do.”

“That supposed to be a good thing?”

“You know what I mean Mick. I’ll wait until you finally forgive me for my mistakes and realize how deeply in love with me you really are so we can be together for like ever.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Enough fagotry for one night. Can we sleep now?”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?”

“And risk Mandy seeing you? No. Now get up here Gallagher before I make you sleep on the floor.”

Ian didn’t even try to hide his smile as he crawled under the covers with Mickey. The second he wrapped his arm around the smaller man’s waist, it was thrown off, but he just waited until Mickey was asleep to hold him once again.

 

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Mickey asked.

Mandy grinned. “Ian invited me dick breath. You’re not the only one he loves.”

“Settle down children I’m nervous enough thank you.”

Ian was practically sweating bullets and to make matters worse someone decided to knock on the door and the poor bastard almost had a heart attack.

“I’ll get it, relax. Jesus Mick you could at least blow him in the bathroom to calm him down a little bit.”

Mandy was met with the familiar sight of Mickey’s middle finger cracking her up on the way to get the door.

“You alright Firecrotch? You took your meds right?”

Ian nodded wringing his hands worriedly. “I’m okay.”

Mandy opened the door to fine a pair of blue doe eyes staring back her. It was a James Dean look alike with wild untamed hair and an unlit cigarette between his lips. It was ghetto love at first sight.

“Huh. Wow you’re hot. What do you want?”

He grinned easily. “Uh is Ian here? Not that I wouldn’t like to talk to you some more.”

“Ian your brother is here!” Mandy called her eyes never leaving Lip’s.

Ian sighed, but headed to greet his brother while Mickey went to raid his fridge. When lip was capable of stopping his gawking at Mandy, he quickly threw his arms around his not so little brother anymore.

“Damn Ian you on steroids or something?” He chuckled reaching to nuzzle the younger man’s hair.

“Nope that’s one of the few pills they didn’t give me.” Ian smirked.

“Well at least you’re still a smart ass. I missed you fuckhead.”

“Yea me too.” He murmured finding it odd that he completely meant it.

“Jesus Gallagher don’t you have anything processed or wrapped in bacon in this shit hole?!” Mickey interrupted from the kitchen.

Lip raised an eyebrow. “Who’s that?”

Ian just sighed. “Probably the love of my life. I put your junk food in the cabinet where your short ass couldn’t reach it! Give me a second!”

“Fuck all the way off!”

By the time Ian, Mandy, and Lip arrived in the kitchen Mickey had taken to trying to climb up on the counter and get into the cabinet like a toddler. It was incredibly hilarious and even more adorable. God Ian had it bad.

“Mick you’re gonna hurt yourself get down.” Ian groaned tugging at the short legs before him and slapping him sharply on the ass. “I’ll get you some jell-o alright?”

Mickey huffed sliding back down to the ground. “You fuckin better Firecrotch.  Hit my ass again I’ll kick your fucking teeth in.”

“Lip this is Mickey, Mickey, Lip.” He introduced handing Mickey his snack and ignoring his insult. “He’s got anger issues.”

Mickey just gave a disgruntled nod and ignored everything but that God like cup of jell-o. And that was him being polite.

“You two dating or already married?” Lip smirked already inhaling his fix of nicotine.

Mickey froze, yet Gallagher didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

“Mickey broke up with me because I had my first episode since Ned and broke up with him, so I am currently trying to win back his affection with jell-o cups and my everlasting charm. I’m trying to be optimistic.” Ian shrugged.

“Here we go again,” Mickey muttered around his spoon. “you give the kid an inch he takes a fucking mile. Can’t we go one day without talking about it?”

Ian smiled at Mickey like he was the world. “I seem to remember giving you about eight and a half inches and if that’s not enough to win you back I’m almost positive my relentless optimism will be.”

“Jesus fuck Ian no one wants to hear about your dick size. Ever!” Lip choked.

“It’s true. I’ve seen it actually.” Mandy said nonchalantly. “He doesn’t wear clothes very often.”

“Are we gonna eat anytime soon or can I go smoke my weed and ignore you fucking idiots a little while longer?” Mickey hissed.

“I’m down.”

It was the first thing Mickey and Lip had agreed on yet.

Ian thought maybe it wouldn’t be such a rough dinner after all.

*                                                                                             *                                                             *

 

“I’m going to get the next round of beers, you wanna walk with me Mick?” Ian flirted aggressively.

Mickey was on a high that completely blocked out any sexual advances though. Or maybe he was just a fucking idiot.

“Nah take Mandy though, she’s buying.”

Lip just watched on shaking his head and smoking his joint as the dumbass in front of him let his brother walk away. It was confusing to see Ian so head over heels for someone. The last Lip knew he was fucking guys for fun and taking the shit that they gave him for it. He’d never seen him in love before. He’s seen Kash, but that was “I’m a kid and someone wants me so it has to be love right?” Then there had been Ned which wasn’t love either so much as, we fuck everywhere all the time, but oh wait that’s JimmySteve’s father maybe I should stop fucking him everywhere. Mickey was…different.

“I don’t get it. You’re so . . . young.” Lip murmured exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

“The fuck you talking about?”

He shrugged. “Most dudes my brother fucks are at least forty. What’s so special about you?”

Mickey wanted to punch the kid in the fuckin throat for even asking such a thing, but the question brought him up a little short. He didn’t’ know what was so special about him. He didn’t know why Ian bothered sticking around in hopes that he’d take him back. It made even less sense to him than it probably did Lip.

“I don’t know.” He said truthfully. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“It must be something if he’s letting you see the family. No one sees the family, especially not with Frank around.”

“Yea, he told me. They don’t really get along huh?”

Lip snickered humorlessly. “Closeted sixteen year old gay boys being outed and fagbashed by their worthless piece of shit of a father doesn’t tend to do much for strengthening relationships.”

“Excuse me?”

They both looked at each other, and it took them each a minute to work through the details with the haze of weed clouding their brains, but they got there. Something Mickey didn’t know. Something Lip did know. And something Ian hadn’t wanted Mickey to know. Lip had been in NYC for all of three hours and he’d already managed to screw his brother’s life up. Fuck.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know where to find me: zankiefanatic.tumblr.com


	7. The I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can see it. His fingers grasping belt loops and pulling him through the crowd. Their teeth would knock together and they wouldn’t be able to see where they were going. He could grab Gallagher though his jeans, pawing at the body that he wants so badly. It’s been two months of this vicious tension between the two and it’s still as rough as that first day. He could fuck him, could let Ian hold him up against a dirty bathroom stall and pound the life out of him to the beat of whatever terrible techno beat is playing. It would be easy. They could fuck, and there probably wouldn’t be any talking, and things would go back to the way they were before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't gonna post this but got the sweetest message on tumblr today with such positive vibes about this story and my writing and i genuinely really appreciated it. I know it sounds weird, but i write for you guys so just to hear that one person enjoys that writing fills me with such warmth and happiness and all that shit. So i decided to post chapter 7 and i have a feeling you guys are really gonna like this one. Thank you chubbybug for the kind words and thanks for reading guys enjoy!

When Ian got back with Mandy there was a noticeable change in the atmosphere. Lip looked like he was practically shitting himself. Mickey was a little harder to decipher. He was obviously thinking something, but refused to look at Ian long enough for him to figure out what it was. He was just staring down at his hands as if he was avoiding something. Automatically he knew it was Lip’s fault. His brother was always a shit liar anyway. It just pissed him off that he’d something to silence Mickey of all people. Ian felt this need to protect his little adorable thug-turned artist even if that meant snapping at his older brother.

“What did you do?” Ian hissed as they all got ready to leave for dinner.

Lip winced. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Look man don’t worry so much about tonight. Deb’s, Carl, Liam? They’re all dying to see you. Fiona too. She cried like a thousand times on the way here. We all really miss you Ian.”

His plan to get Ian’s mind off whatever he’d done to Mickey worked. Lip was able to get him to think about his family the entire ride to the restaurant. Still he managed to look at Mickey every few minutes, which left him completely obliviously to the flirting taking place between his brother and best friend.

His nerves started to get the best of him when he reached out and grabbed Mickey’s hand. He stared at the redhead in shock. His first instinct was to snatch his hand away and cuss him out. But how could he, knowing what he now knew? The kid had been through enough rejection, and quite honestly Mickey felt more connected to his gingerbread house than ever. So he let him squeeze his fucking hand with a death grip, both of them look absentmindedly out opposite windows. The warmth of Mickey’s hand is what got him through the car ride.

 

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“IAN!!!!!!!!”

Mickey stood back and watched as an entire gang of Gallagher’s rushed the giant ginger tree. The other redhead had to be Debbie. The black one was Liam, though he’d confused Liam and Lip almost every time Ian brought them up. There was a pubescent teenaged boy by the name of Carl hugging him as well. He also recognized Fiona who was the most emotional out of all of them as she hugged him viciously and motherly all at the same time. He let Ian introduce them though figuring it wouldn’t help his face to admit he knew his entire heard of a family by name.

“Guy’s this is Mickey and Mandy Milkovich, from Chicago actually. We kind of met through work and we’ve hung out ever since.” He shrugged.

It was weird to hear his name lopped in with Mandy’s. He felt like his name should’ve stood by his own, like it deserved its own sentence, its own introduction. It took him a minute to realize the introduction that he wanted, and the exact reason why he couldn’t have it.

When it came time to sit down Ian specifically asked Mickey to sit next to him, like they were a couple of kids on the fucking school bus which would’ve been oddly fine had the oldest sister not looked at them so weirdly for it. Mickey scowled at Gallagher like he knew he was supposed to but was only met with heart eyes in return. Damn him and his fucking optimism. Frank had yet to be seen though which kept Ian more relaxed and Mickey happy through osmosis. There really wasn’t much for him to do. Mandy and Lip were in their own little world eye fucking each other. The Gallagher’s had stolen his Gallagher from him constantly bombarding him with questions about New York, so he remained in his seat biting anxiously at his nails, a bad habit formed by the rare occasions that he couldn’t smoke.

“Why’re you being so quiet grumpy?” Ian smiled earnestly.

The light was so prominent in his lips and in his eyes that Mickey couldn’t even tell him to go fuck himself.

“I’m fine Firecrotch enjoy your family.”

Ian frowned slightly. “I wanna enjoy you too though.”

“Cut the shit Gallagher.”

He sighed. “You’re so mean and bitter sometimes Mick. We gotta get you laid if you’re not gonna let me do it.”

Mickey lowered his voice so that only Ian could hear. “If memory serves me correctly jackass you were pounding me senseless into my mattress for two hours straight this morning you long dick’d freak. My problem is not sex my problem is your fucking mouth when there’s not a dick in it.”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh. It was just the idea of someone fucking him that wasn’t Ian. He couldn’t even picture it, didn’t want to. When the hurt flashed across Ian’s face it nearly killed him where he stood. Mickey’s fucking mouth would be the end of him, if the redhead didn’t beat him to it. Ian quickly fixed his face putting on that confident grin that wasn’t anything near his genuine goofy smile.

“Don’t worry about it Mick, you’ll never have to see this long dick’d freak again after tonight. You should still get some new blood though. Maybe you’ll stop being such a cold heartless bitch all the time when you do.”

The table froze looking on at the two’s heated discussion. Ian’s cheeks flushed bright red and he quickly excused himself to the bathroom. Mickey thought about going after him, but knew he’d just end up saying something to make it even worse, so he stayed put sulking himself in his beer and wondering where the fuck the server was with their food.

Somewhere in the midst of Mickey’s thoughts about redheaded pale boys with freckles and his horrible craving for nicotine someone else joined them at the table. Only it wasn’t Ian. This man was far older, sandy blonde hair that looked like a colony of some insect or another had lived there was once upon a time. He was dressed so similar to the trash that Mickey remembered from south side that it almost made him feel nostalgic. Then the fucking idiot opened his mouth and he remembered everything that he hated about south side. It had to be Frank.

“Where’s my useless son of a bitch of a son anyway? He skip out on his own dinner?” He huffed pulling up a chair that wasn’t meant for him.

“Why the fuck are you here Frank, we left you at the hotel for a reason.” Lip said. “Ian doesn’t want you here.”

“Oh boo hoo, now I’m the bad guy right? He pussy’s out and runs off to the city to be a showgirl and leaves me to pick up all the blame? Okay, sure!” He slurred drunkenly.

Mickey instinctively cracked his knuckles underneath the table. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all. Mickey had been surrounded by scum like Frank his entire life and that was fine, but the thought of Ian enduring that wasn’t. Ian not being okay wasn’t an option. Now he knew the extent of Ian’s hatred. He knew why he’d shown fighting back tears and needing to not feel for a little while. And Yea, he said stupid shit sometimes and he hurt Ian, but it was never intentional, and he thought that he always apologized. Ian came back to Mickey clenching and unclenching his fingers beneath the table, and the look on the red head’s face told him everything he needed to know.

“Hey,” Mickey grunted kicking Ian softly under the table.

Ian turned to him with wide, scared eyes. “W—What?”

“Sorry . . . for before. I didn’t mean to—you know.”

It took a second but the brightness quickly returned to Ian’s eyes. Mickey was forgiven. He was convinced that one of his only redeeming qualities was bringing that look out of the beautiful pale faced boy. It made him wonder if he could ever mess up bad enough that it wouldn’t be that easy. He also wondered if he was being stupid by not forgiving the kid he was so obviously in love with. It felt like wasting valuable time.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m really glad you’re here Mick.”

Mickey fumbled underneath the table until Ian’s long, bony fingers blended perfectly with his. He never knew that the simple shit in life could feel so good. He guessed he had Ian to thank for showing him that.

“Who the fuck are you?”

For the second time of the night the entire table froze only this time eyes were directed at Frank who was holding a beer that wasn’t his to begin with.

Ian quickly spoke up. “He’s my guest. He was invited.”

Mickey’s hold on Ian’s hand tightened because all he really wanted to do was bash his father’s head in.

“I’d be careful with this one if I was you. Not all there in the head, gets it from his mother.”

Ian just lowered his head taking everything that his father dished out at him. And Mickey got it; he got it more than anyone. He knew what it was like to have a father that you despised, yet felt so weak under that you could never do shit about it. He also knew how badly he’d wished someone would’ve made it stop. Somewhere inside of him, the need to protect Ian flared, and it didn’t seem so bad if it mean he’d be busting some skulls.

“Frank that’s enough, stop it.” Fiona demanded.

Frank held up his hands in mock surrender. “I really should’ve seen it coming. You know he’s just like Monica, all fucked up. What kind of a person leaves their family behind to go fag it out in New York? It’s un-American is what it is. Guess out of all of you there had to be one.”

Everyone was just looking on as he laid into Ian, and it didn’t make any sense. It’s like everyone was afraid of him, or just unaware of the complete and total piece of shit before them. That sadistic, masochistic grin crept onto Mickey’s face and there was no turning back.

“I’m sorry, what did you just call him?”

Everyone turned to stare at Mickey in shock. Most people didn’t bother going toe to toe with Frank. It just never seemed to end well, for anyone.

“Who?” Frank slurred.

“Your son. I-A-N you fucking imbecile.”

Ian could feel Mickey buzzing beside him, felt his knee bouncing with anger, his hand clenching and unclenching around his. He didn’t want him arguing with Frank because he knew it wasn’t worth it, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel nice to have someone finally stick up for him besides himself.

“Oh that’s not myyyyyyyy son. J—just another mistake of his fucked up mother.”

“Yea that’s nice, what did you call him?” Mickey sneered needing to hear him say it.

It took him a minute seeing as to how there was enough alcohol in his system for a distillery, but it clicked and with a wide goofy grin that was nothing like Ian’s spread across his wrinkled face.

“He’s a fag. An aid monkey if you will. Real unfortunate in our neighborhood, I’ll tell you. Guess that’s why he came here, to be with the fairies and the drag queens.”

Mickey nodded. “See that’s what I thought you said.”

No one saw it coming surprisingly enough, though Mandy was suspiciously smirking behind her hands. One second Mickey’s hand was in Ian’s balling up and the next it was gone and he was out of his seat reaching across the table to knock the fuck out of Frank. The hit connected square with the older man’s jaw knocking his chair backwards until he was sprawled out on the floor. Mickey was out of his seat moving to Frank’s body and socking him again in the gut. Everyone at the table was used to their fair share of violence, yet no one seemed too keen on breaking up the ass kicking of Frank’s life. Ian didn’t know whether to gasp or smile.

What Mickey lacked in height he made up for in brute strength. Snatching Frank up off the ground by his collar, he slammed the man’s head up on the table sideways so he could see Ian’s shocked expression, and ignored all the people around the restaurant staring at him with terrified expressions.

“Apologize for being a homophobic piece of shit dad or I’ma break every knuckle in your fucking hand. All fifteen of ‘em.”

“Mick a hand only has fourteen knuckles.” Ian gaped incredulously.

“Fine I’ll break one knuckle on the other hand. You got any other corrections Firecrotch or you want Daddy here to apologize?”

A small hysterical chuckle passed through his lips. “Carry on.”

Mickey socked his knee into Frank’s back until he croaked out an apology, and flopped to the ground. The entire restaurant was silent taking in the huge debacle, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was used to people staring at him for one reason or another.

“Let’s go Gallagher I fuckin hate Italian.”  He said gesturing to the restaurant.

He headed towards the door not even looking back to see if anyone was following him. Of course Ian would.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *                            

 

“You might be my fucking hero!” Lip congratulated Mickey for the umpteenth time.

They were in a car on the way to some club Mandy loved after the fiasco dinner. Mickey was doing everything in his power to avoid Ian’s stare, but he could feel the obnoxious fucker’s gorgeous globes on his. God it was so fucking gay and he couldn’t stop it to save his life.

“The fuck are you lookin at?”

Thought it seemed impossible Ian’s smile got wider. “You love me. Mickey Milkovich you love art, guns, beer, weed, alcohol, and now me. You’re helplessly in love with me. I’m not so sure we ever even actually stopped dating at this point.”

“I don’t love you, we’re not together, and I’m anything but helpless. Just don’t’ like homophobes is all. Probably has something to do with me taking it up the ass. Liking what I like don’t make me a bitch though and I’ll be damned if someone’s gonna make me feel otherwise.”

“So then you won’t have any problem hooking up with someone tonight.”

“We’re going to a club Gallagher not a brothel.” He muttered completely avoiding the question.

“Oh Mandy you didn’t tell him we’re going to a gay club?”

Mandy laughed. “No, I wanted him to actually show up.”

Mickey was pissed. She knew he didn’t do gay clubs. He didn’t even go to clubs. He did beer and forty something alcoholics throwing peanuts at each other and vomiting in dirty bathroom stalls. Gallagher was trying to get a dick in him that wasn’t his; his sister was trying to get his ex’s brother’s dick in her. Had the whole world gone mad?! The fuck did they wanna go hang out with a bunch of queens for anyway? It was a horrendous experience waiting to happen.

“I ain’t dancing.” He snarled.

He didn’t. They walked in and headed straight for the bard, his safe haven for the night or so he thought anyway. It was perfect. Mickey could drink and still watch Mandy and Ian dancing like someone was putting money in their pants. He had to admit Gallagher wasn’t too bad looking when he was making his hips move. He looked good. A little familiar to the way those hips moved in the bedroom. Then his fuckhead of a sister had to start dancing with Ian’s fuckhead of a brother leaving the wolves to descent on his piece of ginger pie. Jesus Christ he needed to get some new nicknames.

Ian was wearing a tank top leaving his broad and pale shoulders exposed to the neon lights encapsulating him in their glow. It was actually completely ridiculous how attractive he was. What was Mickey supposed to do, go and claim him as his own with a z-snap formation? Fuck that. He knew it’s what Ian wanted sans the flamboyant snapping, but he was fucking scared. Scared that once he gave in, admitted that he wanted Ian more than anything else in his entire world that he would never want anything else. Never be capable of loving someone else. He’d always want more with Gallagher and the scariest part was knowing that Gallagher wasn’t afraid to give it to him.

“Mickey! This is Ben; he wants to buy us drinks!” Ian yelled over the roar of the music.

He waved his glass in the air, which was still three fourths way full.

“I’m good. Carry on.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“You sure there isn’t **_anything_** I can get you?” the random guy asked.

He was biting suggestively at his bottom lip and there had never been anything so obvious in all of the fucking universe. It couldn’t have been more obvious if he had hit Mickey’s with a brick that said “fuck me” on it. It was pathetic. He wasn’t even his type.

“OH JESUS GALLAGHER GET HIM THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

He knew the fucking idiot was just trying to make a point, but it didn’t piss him off any less. Ian apologized and led the guy away giving Mickey a look that said “stop being such a prick” on the way. He just raised his glass in a silent cheers and downed the glass in a big gulp. At least that was the end of that . . . Right?

At some point Ian finally takes a break and decides to just torture Mickey with his fucking hips instead. Mickey hates dancing, but Gallagher sure as fuck doesn’t make it look too bad. It’s him and Mandy rolling their hips and jumping up and down and Mickey’s not sure anyone could ever think Mandy’s doing it better. When Mandy fucks off with Lip, Ian still dances. He smiles and he grinds and he runs his hands along his body, the florescent lights illuminating his pale skin and making him look too good for Mickey to handle. His hand tightened around his drink fighting the urge to pull him away and fuck him.

He can see it. His fingers grasping belt loops and pulling him through the crowd. Their teeth would knock together and they wouldn’t be able to see where they were going. He could grab Gallagher though his jeans, pawing at the body that he wants so badly. It’s been two months of this vicious tension between the two and it’s still as rough as that first day. He could fuck him, could let Ian hold him up against a dirty bathroom stall and pound the life out of him to the beat of whatever terrible techno beat is playing. It would be easy. They could fuck, and there probably wouldn’t be any talking, and things would go back to the way they were before.

But he can’t. Because it fucking hurts. And it hurts because he loves him. Loves him more than undoubtedly anything in his entire life. Mickey can’t forget that feeling of rejection, of Ian not wanting him around. He can’t get passed it, no matter the story of the mental disorder. It’s like he’s stuck at this wall trying to move passed it, struggling to get over this fucking obstacle that won’t let him be happy. And he just can’t do it. He feels like a pussy, but he knows he can’t make that move. Gallagher just has to keep his hands to his fucking self and stop trying to pawn dicks off on him, so he can go home and jerk off to the mental images of him dancing. Everything will be fine.

Wrong. It became a vicious cycle. Ian, Mandy, and Lip would dance, some random ass twink would come and shove his dick against him and start whispering in his ear, and just before Mickey got pissed enough to intervene Ian would drag the poor shmuck over to him. He cussed a lot. Even for Mickey. It made him angry that Ian was trying to pawn him off on some other dick, whether it was a joke or not. Ian knew his feelings for him, even if he didn’t say that shit out loud every two seconds and it felt like he was taunting him, like dangling a piece of meat in front of a lion.

By the time number five was brought over Mickey had had enough, the alcohol in his system just enough for a good buzz, and he gave Gallagher a piece of his mind.

“You’re a real piece of shit for doing this you know that?! Haven’t I been through enough now you gotta throw this shit in my face every fucking minute? Fuck you Ian.”

He shoved passed Ian stomping his way outside in desperate need of a cigarette. It amazed him how upset he was over the whole ordeal. What he’d done hadn’t been all that bad. The problem was Ian. Everything with Ian was always intensified and he knew that, so he shouldn’t have tried to get Mickey to hook up with some douchebag. The only thing Mickey wanted in the world was Ian, but he couldn’t go there. By the time Ian had chased Mickey outside, the shorter man was pacing in front of the club cursing him out in his head. It didn’t help that Ian was there in front of him, it just made everything bubble to the surface faster.

“Mick what is your deal? I was just trying to help. I’m trying to make you happy.” Ian insisted.

He shook his head viciously. “Cut the bullshit you didn’t do any of that for me, you did it for you. You did it to prove that I still want you right? Well I do, yea I fucking do but what good does that do us if I can’t trust you?”

“I just thought that—”

“You thought what, that I wanted to fuck somebody else?” Mickey growled. “No I don’t wanna fuck someone else I wanna fuck you, but you fucked that up you dipshit. I let you in and you destroyed me and now you wanna find me a new dick to hop on? Who does that help Ian? I fucking loved you idiot. I—I’ve never done that before and look where it got me. You ditched me man.”

He was left panting, his breaths visible in the frosty night as he glared at the man before him. Saying it out loud should’ve been terrifying but the anger was taking over everything else, coursing lethally through his veins. Anger for having loved so confidently only to be ripped to shreds in response. Anger for knowing he had never meant to hurt him, that it was his disorder talking in those fearful moments. Anger at himself for ever letting anyone in at all.

Ian on the other hand was flabbergasted. He thought that bringing guys over to the bar had been a joke, one of those things that made Mickey pissy in the heat of the moment, but that they could laugh over later. He’d had this big plan to finally make a move again, tell Mickey that he wanted him to be his and no one else’s. He hadn’t planned to say I love you. Had dreamed of it in dozens of different scenarios and interesting positions, but it actually happened? That wasn’t expected at all. When Mickey didn’t freeze up and run away he took that as a good sign, that they could work through it for once instead of running away.

“I’m sorry Mickey. How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry? I fucked up. And I didn’t tell you what you were signing up for with me and you deserved better than that and I’m fucking sorry.” He stepped closer to Mickey taking a deep breath to calm himself. “But I’m not gonna hurt you. I made a mistake and I’ll work as hard as I have to, to gain your trust again. I think I’ve made it clear though that the only thing I want is to be with you. I’m not interested in casual fucking, or friends, or weird ass benefits. I want you. I want you to be mine and no one else’s. Just fucking giving yourself to me, please? You won’t regret it, I promise.”

Mickey reached out pressing a hand to Ian’s chest to keep him from getting and closer. He was already having trouble breathing and the redhead’s close proximity wasn’t making it any easier. But he just kept fucking talking didn’t he.

“I was joking in there alright? I shouldn’t have kept doing it that was stupid. But you wouldn’t dance with me Mick what else was I supposed to do to get your attention?” He pouted.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “My attention was on you the entire fucking time you idiot.”

His eyes lit up at that giving him the confidence to pull Mickey closer. Mickey was convinced that Gallagher had no fucking concept of personal space, so he let him hold him a little closer. The signals were going off in his head to get away, that this would only result in pain and heartache later. Mickey never did listen though.

“I’m bipolar. Sometimes I get sad for no reason, sometimes I get angry and then irritated and then happy all within the space of ten minutes. My meds change, and my moods might not always be stable, but I always get back on the wagon. I’m a lot to handle, so I understand if you can’t, but I think we could be something special if you could.”

They looked at each other for a minute eyes searching for different things. Ian was looking for a sign that he wasn’t crazy, that Mickey really did want to be with him. Mickey was just looking for a sign that this dumbass would ever understand how much he cared.

“You know something? If you spent nearly as much time trying to actually comprehend my feelings for you as you do insisting that you know how my feelings things would be so much simpler. I was never gonna leave you. I—I wanted to be there. I wanted to go through it with you. That didn’t change cause you suddenly freaked out on me.”

Ian nodded softly running his finger softly along the fabric of Mickey’s shirt. Sometimes you don’t realize how badly you need to hear something until it’s said.

“I love you Mickey.” He whispered. “I do.”

Mickey scoffed trying not to show how happy that made him. “Stop.”

Gallagher wasn’t having it.

“Mick,” he taunted lightly. “I love you. Please let me love you.”

That did very interesting things to his stomach and overall wellbeing. How dare that ginger prick say such . . . heartfelt and beautiful things. He was going to be the end of him without a doubt. The problem was Mickey didn’t mind much anymore. He was far too busy being madly and irrevocably in love.

“Stop saying such gay shit and I’ll think about it. How about that?” Mickey offered.

Ian’s face twisted up as he thought about it slowly driving the other man insane.

“Can I spend the night tonight?”

Mickey scoffed. “Is that supposed to be different than any other night?”

“Well I’d like to end the night with my cock shoved firmly up your ass preferably at a slight angle to hit that perfect spot that makes you moan like a virgin jerking off for the first time as opposed to falling asleep next to Mandy, but I’m open to suggestions.”

“Jesus Christ Gallagher.”

Ian licked his lips in response. “Don’t ‘jesus Christ Gallagher’ me. Last night was just a taste of everything I’ve been saving up for you Milkovich. We’re not leaving that bedroom for at least three days.”

“Just . . . don’t fucking do that shit to me again. I mean it. You push me away again and I walk.” He mumbled trying to retain some level of toughness in his voice.

“I won’t ever hurt you like that again. I love you.” He whispered pressing their foreheads together.

Mickey bit his lip struggling to figure out if he could let go or not. Yea it hurt, but could the pain of losing him be any worse than seeing him every day, knowing he could have him at any moment, but refusing to give in?

Mickeys fingers trailed to grip Ian’s collar knowing that he was ruined for anyone else ever. It was incredibly annoying, and also extremely, perfectly satisfying.

“Can we make Mandy bring us food and leave it outside the door?”

“Only if you let me do that thing with my tongue you like so much.”

_Oh shit._

“Hey I thought that one was for me gingersnap!”

They turned to look at one of the guys Ian had pawned onto Mickey standing with a not to happy look on his face. Gingersnap? The fuck kind of name is ginger snap? Jesus.

“Sorry man he snatched me up instead.” Mick said giving Ian a death glare.

He started to wonder how long he could hold out and make Gallagher wait for sex. Fucking idiotic dickheads thinking they can get whatever they please. Had he not been through enough of an emotional rollercoaster in the past twenty-four hours, now he had to deal with this prick too?

“I don’t mind, the more the merrier.”

Oh god. Leave it to Ian to pick the one psychopath in the entire building.

“Nope we’re good, thanks.”

“Oh come on don’t be like that sugar. He always such a grumpy bottom?”

Ian groaned. Here we go again.

“Excuse me?”

The guy was closer to Ian’s height than Mickey’s with muscles to rival the redhead’s. If he was being honest with himself Ian had loved that Mickey wasn’t even remotely interested in the other guy, but that’s beside the point. Mickey’s temper was always a ticking time bomb, hence why he stuck to making art by himself instead of going to fucking gay club with his ex that he still was in love with and kind of wanted to be with and all this other messy shit. The last thing he needed was to be called a grumpy bottom. Who the fuck said he was a bottom anyway?! Mickey landed his first punch and sent the guy flying to the concrete. You can take the guy out of Southside….

It was going to be a long night in deed.


	8. The Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian looked down at the dark haired man in shock. Mickey wasn’t exactly the hugging type, though his arms were so warm and inviting Ian would hug him all day if he could. It was kind of the cutest thing ever the way he hugged him so angrily, like he wanted to say, “goddammit Gallagher, always making me do sweet shit” but Ian was way too happy to care. He wrapped his arms firmly around Mickey’s waist burying his face into his shoulder and breathing in deeply.
> 
> “You okay?” Mickey asked hesitantly.
> 
> Ian shook his head slowly tightening his hold on the shorter man.
> 
> “Could we . . . maybe go back to having sex for right now and pretend that didn’t happen? I’m not mentally ready to deal with that.”

The sun was finally trickling through the wide windows of the police station. Phones ringing, machines buzzing, people being booked and processed all created a subtle hum within the building. It smelled faintly of terrible, stale coffee and nicotine with a touch of spearmint in there somewhere. Ian’s massive body was sprawled out in one of the tiny chairs made available for waiting, his head leaning against Mandy’s shoulder whose head was in Lip’s shoulder like a domino effect. Fiona had been there to, but returned to put the kids to bed sometime in the darkness of the night. So it remained just the three waiting idly for their favorite thug to be released back to them.

Meanwhile Mickey was pissed off. He knew the night should’ve ended with a beautiful ache in his body, and bruises on his hips to match, yet there he sat both the ache and bruises present but not in the way he wanted. He hadn’t gotten into a spec of trouble since he left Chicago, a fact very surprising to the dipshit assigned to his case once he saw his spreadsheet. It probably should’ve been worse, but for some reason the dude didn’t want to press charges. Mickey had a sneaking suspicion he had someone in his life he didn’t want to know he was gay, he’d lucked out in that regard. So why was it taking so fucking long for them to release him?

“Milkovich, you made bail.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Someone already told me that two fucking hours ago. Can I leave now?”

“Ooops.”

Nice to see New York’s finest was so much better than Chicago’s. They returned his shit and took off the cuffs reminding him to; “stay out of trouble” before releasing him back into society. The first thing he spotted was Ian, probably because his eyes were so trained to look for burning red embers. The adorable bastard was sprawled out in a chair, mouth open to the world. Mickey loved him way too much for his own good.

“Rise and shine freckles!” He smirked kicking at the chair.

Ian shot up eyes bloodshot looking for any sign of distress.

“Mickey!”

He shot out of the chair, unable to control himself apparently, and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend lifting him effortlessly off the ground. And the way he said his name was just full of sunshine and fucking rainbows, like it meant something in the world. Mickey kind of loved it. He couldn’t let **_him_** see that though. He had a rep to protect.

“Goddammit Gallagher stop manhandling me!”

But Ian didn’t listen tightening his grip. He let Mickey down slowly to the floor trading his hold on the dark haired man’s hips for his face pulling him in for a kiss. That was something Mickey couldn’t even try to not like. He was helpless to the taste of Gallagher’s mouth. It was all teeth and tongue, passion that had been lacking for so long creeping itself back into the air.

“Mmm you miss me that much huh?” Mickey smirked as Ian nuzzled his face into his neck. “It is probably good we didn’t meet in south side, I used to spend more time in juvie then at home.”

“Yea well maybe home wouldn’t have been so bad with me there.”

That small smile, Ian’s smile, crept slowly onto Mickey’s face.

“Yea, maybe.”

“Then again I don’t think Fiona would’ve been too happy with me bailing you out of jail all the time. We just had to round up the troops to pay your way out dickhead, everyone pitched in.”

Ian’s hands were slipping terribly close to Mickey’s ass, and his entire body wasn’t even itching to run away. Damn how things had changed.

“Yea, well I’ll pay you back tough guy, don’t worry about it.”

“Tough guy, that’s a new one. I like that one. I had plans for you last night.” Ian mumbled teeth grazing Mickey’s ear.

He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s alright, we’ve got all day.”

“Not exactly! We’re fucking starving. You’ve ruined two meals in a fucking row asshole.” Mandy sneered suddenly awake. “You wanna fuck you do it after I’m fed.”

Mickey promptly flipped her off before turning back to Ian whose hands were digging methodically into his boyfriend’s ass.

“What do you say firecrotch, one more meal before we cut ourselves off from civilization for a few days?”

Ian smiled shrugging softly. “Sounds good to me I’ll probably end up blowing you in the back of the car anyway.”

“Talk about PDA.” Mickey chuckled.

Lip gagged. “Ew they’re even worse when they’re together.”

“No they’re not. Trust me their just a couple of bitches when they’re not together.” Mandy insisted smile evident in her voice

Mickey let Ian hold his hand on the way outside, a revolutionary feat for the south side native. And the best part was that he didn’t really give a shit who saw. It’d taken years, but he’d finally move passed everything that his father had done to him. All the pain and the dissension that had terrorized his life were gone. He’d dealt with his shit, moved passed everything and accepted himself for who he was. And if after all that he couldn’t hold his boyfriend’s hand in one of the most accepting states in the country, what the fuck was the point?

They waited calmly for the Uber just staring at each other. It seemed insane to not have taken Ian back immediately now that he actually had him again. He was kind of perfect. Like just looking at the kid made him wanna paint. Something so striking should be an inspiration to all. And he didn’t really mind that Ian made him have these thoughts. Because he like . . . loved him and stuff.

“Would you say it again?” Ian whimpered in the back of the Uber.

“No man, you made me say it fucking twenty times outside.”

Ian looked in front of them at Mandy and lip deep in conversation. They wouldn’t even notice . . .

“Just one more time Mick, please?” He begged wetly in his ear. “You’d be surprised what I’d be willing to do to hear those three little words.”

Mickey’s eyes widened at the thought of it. Being with this kid was going to send him to an early grave, he just knew it.

“Ian no,” He hissed. “we can’t.”

“Shhhhhhhh…..” The red head smirked already sliding his head down to Mickey’s lap.

It was hard to decide whether that was the best or worst car ride of his entire life. On one hand there was Mandy and Lip literally inches away from them. On the other hand it was Ian . . .  and every time he sucked him off was better than the last. His fingers were filled with red hair watching his head bob enthusiastically. He couldn’t make any noise, couldn’t move or whine or cry out the way that he wanted to. It’d taken years to break his body of the habit of silence, and with Ian was nearly impossible. He had no choice, just had to sit there biting down on his lip so viciously it was bleeding half way through his blow job. Then all of a sudden Ian’s lifting his head and releasing Mickey with a soft plop that rang heavily in his ears.

“How much longer till we get there?” He asked giving Mickey a firm squeeze.

“About five minutes sir.” The driver answered.

“More than enough time.” Ian smirked lowering his head back down.

He swallowed Mickey like it was nothing hallowing his cheeks and slurping so beautifully. Mickey grabbed at the leather of the seat fighting back all of the sounds that Ian loved to get him to make. It was torture. Beautiful, hot torture. All of the blood was leaving the upper part of his body flowing downwards fast.  No one had ever brought him so close to the brink so quickly. It was maddening.

“ahhhhh ah.” Mickey gasped out loud.

The driver was the only one who noticed.

“Are you okay sir?”

“Fine! Fine I—We’re fine.” He grunted.

As if to say, “you better be so much fucking better than fine right now” Ian did that thing with his tongue that Mickey liked. Only now he fucking loved it cause it was on his dick. He lost it almost immediately fingers tightening in Gallagher’s hair and thrusting his hips up as his orgasm came crashing down.

“Mmmm….” Ian hummed slipping Mickey softening dick back into his jeans.

He licked his fingers dry eyeing Mickey with that obnoxious, sexy ass smirk of his.

“You’re a fucking slut you know that?” He gasped a grin forming slowly on his lips.

“You love it, what a nice appetizer for an all you can eat buffet huh Mick?”

The car came to a stop then alerting them to their destination at a Denny’s.

“You ever say anything that corny again and you can kiss all of this goodbye.”

Ian just laughed at the ridiculousness of that statement. Goddammit he’d lost all of his leverage with this kid.

“I love you.” Mickey mumbled before sliding out of the car so he didn’t have to look him in the eyes.

And Ian smiled, because he knew with every fiber of his being that he did.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

True to his word Ian dragged Mickey back to his apartment after breakfast leaving Mandy and Lip to do whatever the fuck was going on there back at his hotel. They spent so little time there that it only felt right to christen the place or however the hell that works. At first they fucked hard and desperate, struggling to feel everything that had been taken away for so long. Mickey was quite the needy little bottom and it made Ian way too happy. It was as if Mickey’s prostate and Ian’s dick were magnets, as if it would defy gravity if they didn’t slam into each other. While he had a great dick and a great sense of how to use, the redhead also had an alarmingly fast reboot rate, and Mickey struggled to keep up. Ian knew he liked it rough though, even when his body was tired and aching, so they kept moving.

Around six Ian stumbled out of the room to take his meds and grab the first forms of food his hands touched before collapsing back on the bed with Mickey who’s ass was all out and plump. He really couldn’t be blamed for what took place next.

“Mickey….” He cooed crawling to place chaste kisses on his boyfriend’s upper thighs.

Mickey chuckled looking over his shoulder. “The fuck you doing back there? I need food before we go again.”

“You eat; I’ll have plenty of fun down here.” He mumbled.

Ian kept kissing up those thighs taking Mickey’s ass in his hands and spreading it nice and wide.

“Mmm fuck, Ian.” He groaned, feeling his tongue slick hot and wet over his hole. “I’m still gonna eat this pizza, but you . . . Uhhhh yea you keep doing that.”

Ian laughed which only did amazing things with his tongue and Mickey was seriously considering forgetting about the pizza. Mickey liked that it was never enough with Gallagher. He couldn’t just fuck him; he had to reduce him to a jelly fish where he lay. He couldn’t just rim him; he had to knead his fingers so rough and hard into the flesh of his ass cheek that the touch almost made Mickey come. Everything that they did would never be enough, and maybe before Mickey couldn’t take him back because he had to accept that and get over the fear of always wanting more with someone. Once he had . . . the possibilities were endless.

Some people; however, were not nearly as happy as the newly reunited couple. Fiona was pissed off that her dickhead of a brother had taken her money to bail out some guy that punched their alcoholic father in the face and then disappeared off the face of the fucking earth. Which, yea it sounds a lot less romantic when you say it like that. He wasn’t answering his phone even though she’d driven all the way to New York on her own vacation time to see his obnoxious ginger ass. It almost irritated her more that her little siblings didn’t care much, they were too wrapped up in the city and the fun you could having jumping on beds in a hotel room. So she left to go find her brothers and kick some serious ass.

“Lip! Phillip Gallagher you open this damn door right now!” She demanded pounding heavily.

Her little brother opened the door half naked with hickeys covering his neck like fucking polka dots and cheeks redder than Ian’s hair. It was quite pathetic actually.

“H—Hey Fiona what’s up?” He asked still slightly out of breath.

“When I said you could have your own hotel room this is not what the fuck I meant Lip! And where is Ian? We came here to see Ian, to check on Ian, to make sure IAN was okay, why can’t I find the only reason for my being in New York?”

Lip smirked. “If I had to guess I’d say Ian’s doing just fine Fi. He’s at his apartment.”

“Thank you that is all I needed. And put a fucking condom on for Christ’s sake.” Fiona parented already headed straight for the elevator.

“Be careful Fiona!” Lip warned.

But she was already gone.

By the time she made it to Ian’s side of town, they’d taken to fucking on the living room floor. And the not so great thing about Ian’s small ass apartment was that the living room, kitchen, and entry way were basically all just one big room with a bathroom and a bedroom attached to complete everything. So if you were to walk into Ian’s apartment at that particular moment you would’ve seen extremely pale legs wrapped around slightly less pale ones. You would’ve seen Mickey’s fingers slipping smoothly through Ian’s hair as they fucked slowly, and lazily concentrating more on the pressing of their lips then the motion of their hips. This is pretty much what Fiona saw when she picked, a little too easily for comfort, the lock on Ian’s door. The fuck kind of place was he living in anyway if even she could pick the lock?

“I love you Mick.” Ian murmured mouth sucking harshly on his collar bone.

Mickey threw his head back in his throws of passion, convinced that Gallagher had been put there to make him be the opposite of everything he’d thought he would be.

“M—Me too. I love you too. Fuuuuuuuck Ian.” He whined fingers digging in the pale cleft of Ian’s ass.

“Ian Galla—WHAT THE FUCK IAN?!” Fiona gasped covering his eyes.

Mentally scarred for life. Absolutely mentally scarred for life.

“Jesus fucking Christ does everyone just have to break in to my apartment? What is wrong with you people there is door for a reason, you want to enter you fucking knock on the door with your fucking hand formed into this thing called a fist! It’s a novel concept, I know. I had more privacy in a fucking mental institution.”

“Hey you wanna continue you your rant on knocking when your dick isn’t in my ass?”

“Please! Please no dicks in any asses. What the fuck is with you and Lip, no one can keep it in their pants anymore I swear.”

“You could always leave.” Ian offered.

“Pants. NOW.”

Ian sighed looking down at his boyfriend. “Don’t put on any underwear though I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Oh yea? What you gonna do about it tough guy?”

“Oh Fiona go away.”

“IAN!”

They slipped reluctantly off to Ian’s bedroom to pull on sweatpants and act like they hadn’t been fucking each other for the past seven hours. Ian’s hair was in a hundred different directions from Mickey’s relentless tugging. Mickey had dark red, sometimes purple, marks all along his neck and collar bones even reaching down to the space right above his belly button. Their lips were swollen from being sucked and nibbled, and their pupils were still dilated. If Fiona wasn’t so pissed at Ian she would’ve told him good job because they both look thoroughly blissed out.

“This is Mickey by the way.” Ian grinned sheepishly pointing to the shorter boy lighting a cigarette.

Fiona nodded. “Yes we met when he punched Frank in the face.”

Mickey just shrugged. “Your dad’s kind of a prick.”

“Don’t we all know it,” She sighed before turning to Ian with her classic Fiona face. “how you holding up?”

Ian stood with his arms crossed leaning against the wall and wishing with everything in him that his sister wouldn’t ask him if he was still crazy in front of his boyfriend.

“Haven’t killed myself yet, must’ve made Frank really disappointed.” He muttered.

“Ian, don’t. Frank doesn’t mean shit, he’s not important and you can’t let him affect your life.”

“That’s why for the first time you’ve visited me here since I left south side you decided to bring my alcoholic addict of a father who happens to not even actually be my father, when the only reason I left in the first place was because he beat my fucking face in for being gay while no one in that goddamn house did a thing about it!”

She looked at him with those big sad eyes and he tried not to let them affect him. It hurt. Of course it still hurt, and as far as Ian was concerned she would never understand because she hadn’t been there for him.

“Ian…” Mickey interjected with no real idea of what to say.

Ian shook his head feeling everything he’d refused to talk about in therapy bubble to the surface. “Why did you even come here? The only chance I have at being sane, at be anything close to be happy is when I’m not around this fucked up family. You weren’t there when I was seventeen and scared and manic. I didn’t talk to you I get it, but you didn’t even try. And you come here with your new job and your credit cards and your business lady smile like everything has changed and it hasn’t. It hasn’t Fiona. I’m still bipolar, I’m still fucked up, and nothing you do or buy is ever gonna change that. So . . . just leave. Please. And don’t come back.”

Mickey had never felt so helpless. There Ian stood saying all this shit to his sister that he’d never gotten the chance to say. He probably didn’t even mean it, it was everything bottled up from years of just feeling like no one gave a shit, but it had to be said. He didn’t know the whole story, and he knew Ian would tell him everything when he was ready. To watch him be so sad and broken was kind of making him miserable by association.

Fiona left with tears in her eyes leaving the two in an apartment full of silence and tension. Mickey was trying to figure out how to make Ian happy again. He couldn’t decide between blow job and hug. It was a difficult thing to think about. In the end he though the adorable idiot looked like a hug was needed, so he took a deep breath and marched over to him wrapping his tiny arms around his tall ass boyfriend.

Ian looked down at the dark haired man in shock. Mickey wasn’t exactly the hugging type, though his arms were so warm and inviting Ian would hug him all day if he could. It was kind of the cutest thing ever the way he hugged him so angrily, like he wanted to say, “goddammit Gallagher, always making me do sweet shit” but Ian was way too happy to care. He wrapped his arms firmly around Mickey’s waist burying his face into his shoulder and breathing in deeply.

“You okay?” Mickey asked hesitantly.

Ian shook his head slowly tightening his hold on the shorter man.

“Could we . . . maybe go back to having sex for right now and pretend that didn’t happen? I’m not mentally ready to deal with that.”

Though every fiber of Mickey’s being wanted to say yes, there was a hesitance in the back of his mind. Because he had agreed to be with Gallagher, he’d agreed to take on all of the emotional baggage that came with him. Although, that didn’t bother him seeing as how he had enough baggage of his own to fill a fucking private jet, it meant that he had to actually be careful and attentive to this guy. He didn’t want him to be fucked up like he’d once been, Ian deserved much better than that. Fuck, he deserved the world. So, he pulled away and took his face in his hands fingers tracing the jawline as he looked for a sign in his those beautiful eyes of his.

“What Mick?” the redhead mumbled under his boyfriend’s hard gaze.

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” Mickey said.

Ian let his fingers trail up the pale skin at the dip back of Mickey’s back avoiding the gaze he dealt out.

“You’re here. So I’m better than I ever could be. Please just… please?”

He didn’t say that he needed Mickey to take the pain away, because he didn’t have to. Mickey just kind of knew him like that. So they took it slow, Mickey leading in a way that he hadn’t before. There was more time dedicated to touching and kissing and comforting something that they hadn’t really explored before. It was kind of the first time where Ian was giving himself over to Mickey, instead of the other way around. Mickey waited until Ian’s orgasm had subsided and he’d curled into the dark haired man’s chest to say anything. His fingers were tracing through Ian’s scalp soothingly and it was almost possible to forget what had happened. Almost.

“I’m around if you ever wanna . . . you know, talk about shit.” Mickey told him.

Ian stretched his neck to peer up at his boyfriend. “But you hate talking.”

“I hate talking about me, you? You I can put up with.”

A smile crept up on his face, and Mickey almost couldn’t handle the sight of it. They sat in silence stroking each other’s skin lightly enjoying the peace that settled down on them like a warm blanket. Mickey knew Ian would talk when he was ready, and he was never the type to pry, so he let him come out with it on his own. Ian couldn’t have been more thankful for that simple act of love alone.

"Thank you by the way.” Ian murmured.

“What for?” Mickey asked lips already around another cigarette.

"You didn't pity me for my disorder. I hurt you, and I deserved to endure the consequences of my actions. You broke up with me and you had a reason to, and as much as it hurt being with you, without you, it's the closet I've felt to normal since before I went manic the first time. So you know... Thank you."

Mickey exhaled slowly through his nostrils. “I’m never gonna treat you like you’re broken cause you’re not. You’re fine. Anyone who tries to convince you differently doesn’t fucking deserve to be a part of you. And when you stop being fine I’ll tell your pale ass and we’ll fix it. Together. End of discussion.”

To untrained ears the words were staccato and ineffective in terms of romantic gestures but for Ian it was everything and more. It was someone assuring him that everything he’d worked so hard for wasn’t for nothing, that he wasn’t always going to be labeled as crazy. Hearing it from Mickey and not from some doctor paid per hour to do so made it all the more special.

“Mickey, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.” Ian realized suddenly.

Mickey shrugged clearly uncomfortable with the praise even though they both knew deep down he loved it.

“Your brother though. The big one. He told me what Frank did ya all those years. Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was Ian’s turn to shrug uncomfortably running his fingers along Mickey’s stomach to distract himself.

“I don’t like to be weak. I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” He explained.

“Ian your dad being a piece of shit has no reflection on you. Trust me that was my thought process for years and all it did was keep my gay ass in the closet and keep me from being who I am. That’s no life to live. You left because you were being beat on, that’s not weak that’s fucking smart . . . . I mean what’d he do that made you come to New York anyway? ”

Ian sighed wiggling himself tighter against Mickey. He thought that maybe if he held on tight it wouldn’t make him feel like the world was caving in when he said the words out loud. It was the first time he said the words aloud since Dr. Wonder and he wasn’t so excited to open up old wounds. Ian had very few areas of his life that Mickey didn’t know about. They had been honest with each other in a way neither of them was particularly used to being. Being honest was scary, new territory for Ian. He had a couple of strings left with Mickey and the more time they spent together the more strings Mickey cut down.

“Monica got a girlfriend. She never really explained if she was bisexual or lesbian or just having fun, but it didn’t really matter with Frank. Fiona always told me I was the most like her, and I scared him, that’s why he was such a dick to me all the time. So uh at the time Lip was the only one who knew I was gay. I wasn’t really out to any of the others. It’s not that I was in the closet I guess, it’s just that I never really felt the need to tell them. Who I fucked didn’t interrupt everyone’s life like Fiona ya know? I was out and I fucked who I wanted to fuck, but I guess I never really did say the words to them. Anyway Frank found me with Ned at my job once and it was just after Monica had left again. Wrong place wrong time, story of my fucking life right? I guess after the whole bipolar thing and now the being gay thing the similarities were just too startling for him to keep his fucking hands off me. He was drunk and he beat the fuck out of me and then he waited until I got home to out me to the entire family and kick me around a little more.”

Ian snatched the cigarette from Mickey’s finger needing the nicotine to chase away the toxic words from his lungs. He expected a look of pity and of sorrow, the same face that Fiona gave him when she cleaned up the blood, or the look that Debbie and Carl would give every time he walked around with a new bruise. Ian hated that look; he loathed it with every fiber of his being. So when he looked up at Mickey Milkovich and didn’t see that look, it was the most shocking and prodigious thing probably ever.

“Fucking sucks having dads that can’t tell us apart from a punching bag. As long as I’m around though Frank ain’t gonna do shit so don’t worry about him, that’s old news.” Mickey mumbled reaching desperately for his cigarette.

“Yea?”

“Yea . . .  Don’t go getting all soft on my freckles.” He smirked when Ian got that childlike smile of his again.

“I love you Mick.” Ian sighed in contentment.

He couldn’t fight the smile that show wide and proud on his face.

“Yea, yea me too.”

*                                                             *                                                             *

“Mickkkkkey, don’t! Come back to bed.” Ian groaned.

Mickey rolled his eyes detangling his legs from the long limbs that belonged to the seemingly child next to him before heading to get the door. They’d managed to enjoy the rest of their night in privacy eating and fucking everywhere with smoking breaks in between. You know the way life is supposed to be. But nothing good ever lasts forever, so of course it was fucking Lip with his arm draped over Mickey’s fucking sister like it was the fifties and they were going steady. Mickey kind of wanted to remove that arm, preferably from Lip’s body.

“What?” Mickey offered impolitely.

Lip sneered. “Where’s my jackass of a brother.”

“Mick come back to bed already, who is it?!”

God he loved it when Ian called him that.

“It’s your fucking brother, who else?! Come get rid of him.”

Ian came out in the same sweatpants that Mickey had tugged off the day before, swinging dangerously low on his hips. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt a fact Mickey was very grateful for. The more he looked at him the more irritated he became that they never got more than a few hours alone.

“What do you want?” Ian asked appearing in the entryway.

“Why are you being an ass to Fiona? She’s distraught man.”

“Poor her. Anything else you need?”

Lip raised an eyebrow looking over at Mickey for some indication at what the fuck was going on. All he was doing was staring at Ian like a fucking piece of ginger meat, the idiot.

He scoffed. “The fuck’s your problem Ian?”

“I’m not doing this with you two. This Lip and Fiona against the world bullshit or the Lip and Fiona know all routine. I’m done living the way other people want me to live.”

“What are you talking about; no one’s fucking forcing you to do anything. I’m trying to help you.”

“Of course. Now you wanna help me because you’re done with college and you’ve got nothing going on and you’re fucking my best friend. But I needed you then Lip. I needed you when Kash left, but you had Karen right? I needed you when all those guys at the club would give me party favors and do shit to me that I still can’t remember, but MIT was waiting and no one was gonna get in the way of that. I don’t need you now. For the first time in my life since I left I’m doing just fine without you. I don’t need you. I don’t need Fiona. Alright?”

They were heavy words to swallow. Especially considering Ian had never told Ian about his nights at the club before. Mandy and Mickey watched on unfamiliar with the kind of sibling altercation before them. Milkovichs handled their problems differently, mostly with passive aggressiveness, middle fingers, and titty twisters.

“What you gonna play house with Mickey Milkovich then?” Lip asked earning the middle finger instantly. Ian, man, come on you’re smarter than this let’s be serious. He can’t handle you when you’re at your worst, when you lose control. You know that; he’s shown you that. The only reason you even left Chicago was because I found you a therapist, I schemed for your meds. Yea you’re doing better _now_ but it’s still just a matter of time before something happens again. You’re not strong enough Ian and that’s okay.”

Ian’s eyes clouded over with confusion and rage quickly filled the man beside him. Mickey hated everything happening in front of him. It’d been amazing to see Ian stand up to Fiona, be confident in himself and his emotions. Then it was like Lip was able to destroy all of that. That was his big brother, and for such a long time in his life everything that he’d said had been the truth to the point where he didn’t really know who else to trust but him. Something about having his family around just made him uncertain. But when he was with Mickey it wasn’t like that. He’d never try to make Ian do something he didn’t want to, or be something that he wasn’t. If protector was the role he had to play to keep that spark in his boyfriend than that’s the role he’d fucking play.

He stepped in front of Ian pressing lightly on Lip’s chest to put some distance between the two brothers.

“Enough of that. Stop using his fucking mental health as an excuse to get him to do shit he doesn’t want to do, or to tell him that he isn’t capable of doing anything. He’s fine! And if I gotta kick another Gallagher’s ass I swear I will.”

“What, you his guard dog or somethin?”

Mickey just shrugged. “If that’s the fuck you wanna call it be my guest. He’s fucking family. From what I can see he ain’t got too much of that now a days.”

Lip just stood back with wide eyes. He didn’t get it. Ian and he had grown so distant over the years that it made sense that he wouldn’t understand. Maybe that just wasn’t the time for them to hash their shit out, who knows. Ian kept his eyes to the ground until his brother had left the apartment. Because no matter how tough he thought he was, hurting his family hurt him, but he had no other idea of how to go about things. So he guessed he’d just have to stick it out on his own for a while longer. As long as he had Mickey that no longer seemed like such a bad fate to endure.

“Now that I’ve managed to run my entire family away and free you from incarceration what should we do?” Ian asked after they’d crawled back into bed.

Mickey shrugged. “You’re the one with the grand romantic gestures I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

Ian grinned kissing him softly on the neck. “We could go on a date you know? We haven’t done that more than like once.”

“That requires clothes and leaving the apartment, two things I’m not very keen on doing.”

“You’re mean.” The redhead mumbled. “How about pizza, beer, weed, and a movie?”

He grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language Gallagher.”

It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture to most, but for Mickey it would always be more than enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hopefully this cleared up all the confusion about Frank. I'm not following the story line we're given where he doesn't give a shit if Ian's gay. I wanted to mess around with his seemingly hatred for Ian and the similarities between Ian and Monica so this is just the way i went about it, not to mention i wanted to see how Mickey would respond to that, and i thought it would actually bring them even closer together. Also something different from the show that you see here and in upcoming chapters is the tension between Ian, Fiona, and Lip. It's always kind of irritated me especially in later seasons that it kind of becomes Lip and Fiona as mom and dad of the house and Ian was often times over looked( still is seeing as how some people have to fuck their ex and their husband while their brother is in the middle of a mental break down) so i thought it would be interesting to play with this idea of resentment that he could hold but never truly feel comfortable to talk about, not even in therapy, because he does love them and he is appreciative of everything that they've done, but at the end of the day they just weren't there for him at all emotionally speaking i guess. *sigh* i could talk about this shit all day but i hoped you like the chapter! You know where to find me: zankiefanatic.tumblr.com


	9. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey was starting to have trouble breathing. His heart felt like it might combust underneath his sternum. He’d really thought he was growing, becoming that guy who could be in a relationship and like give each other shit, go through milestones. But images of white picket fences and diapers filled his mind and it was absolutely fucking terrifying. He was twenty-four, Ian going on twenty-three in a couple of months. It was way too early for him to start thinking about this shit. Mickey didn’t know what he wanted for dinner let alone who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The whole point of the key was to give them some semblance of moving forward without doing anything permanent. You give someone a key and they can use it but they don’t have to. He loved Ian, of course he did, but the very mention of him moving in set a buzzing in his veins that only appeared when it was time to run away. Shit.
> 
> “Mick calm down okay? I didn’t know. I highly doubt that’s where Ian’s head is at anyway.”
> 
> Oh god. Mickey hadn’t even thought about Ian thinking about them moving in together. He was pretty sure he was either gonna be sick or pass out.
> 
> “Weed. I need my weed.”

Mickey and Ian dating wasn’t much different than them being friends at all. They’d spent all their time together anyway, so it felt natural to move full steam ahead into this weird migration of their lives together. Mickey’s apartment had once again become their playing ground so that some work could actually be achieved. He still had to make art for a living and having Ian in his life, his passion for it soared again. It helped tremendously that Ian would come and bother him between school work and a job of his own. It always brought on a new, brighter way of thinking and made his art work all that much better.

After the Gallaghers had left New York Mandy had been spending more and more time away from home, which left them more _alone_ time if you will. They had time to make up for and the relationship seemed to evolve naturally. Ian was just there, and there really wasn’t anyone else that Mickey wanted to spend time with. So when he offered him a key to the apartment it seemed like the most logical conclusion for their relationship.

“I’ll see you after work okay?” Ian murmured tugging at the sweatpants Mickey always wore during work.

Mickey nodded taking Ian’s hand to slide the key into the palm.

“What’s this?”

“The fuck does it look like? It’s a key dumbass. All your shit’s here already as it is might as well be able to get in when you want.”

He smiled loud and obnoxious with that attractive ass face of his pulling his boyfriend in for much more than their usual goodbye kiss, though that was usually pretty hot too.

“Wow Mick, key to the apartment? That’s a big step. Pretty soon we’ll be painting picket fences together.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Like I’d let your untalented ass near a paintbrush. Don’t you have somewhere to be or is it your goal to annoy the fuck out of me for the rest of my life?”

“Oh I’d have no greater pleasure than to annoy you for the rest of your life, but you just gave me a key to your apartment I think a marriage proposal is a little much don’t you?”

“Get the fuck out of here Gallagher.” He laughed pushing Ian out the door.

“I love you!”

“Yea, yea asshole, go to work!”

Mandy came home soon after that. She’d been working more shifts than usual, said she wanted to save up for something. Mickey had even offered to pay for it, he’d missed her ass enough, but she refused. Knowing what it was made him regret ever giving that offer.

 

“I did! Mickey I did it!” She screeched.

“The fuck you goin on about?”

She threw a big stack of papers in his face. In the end all he had to do was read the title at the top of the first page. It was bolded and underline, in obnoxious font. It was a lease.

“What? Y—You’re leaving?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so over dramatic. I’m moving in a floor below you. Landlord only glanced at my tits for like twenty seconds too. I’ve never seen ‘em look away that fast in southside.”

“Is this because of Ian’s fuck head of a brother? You don’t have to leave Mands, we got this place together.” He muttered.

“No it has nothing to do with Lip, which is his name ya know. It has to do with the fact that I’m twenty-two years old and still living with my big brother across the hall like I’ve been doing my whole life. You’re about to ask Ian to move in. You guys’ll get married and adopt ginger babies and shit. And I’m happy for you Mick, you deserve it, it makes me ridiculously proud to see you stable and opening yourself up to someone. But I gotta be happy too ya know? I want to do this for myself. Things are going good right now. My job’s amazing; I’m not sexually assaulted to get tips anymore. Why not?” She smiled.

Mickey was completely hung up on one particular part of that statement.

“H—Hold the fuck up. Who said Firecrotch was moving in here?”

Mandy raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were gonna give him a key?”

“Yea, a key Mandy I didn’t put him on my fucking life insurance. Jesus!” He choked.

Mickey was starting to have trouble breathing. His heart felt like it might combust underneath his sternum. He’d really thought he was growing, becoming that guy who could be in a relationship and like give each other shit, go through milestones. But images of white picket fences and diapers filled his mind and it was absolutely fucking terrifying. He was twenty-four, Ian going on twenty-three in a couple of months. It was way too early for him to start thinking about this shit. Mickey didn’t know what he wanted for dinner let alone who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The whole point of the key was to give them some semblance of moving forward without doing anything permanent. You give someone a key and they can use it but they don’t **_have_** to. He loved Ian, of course he did, but the very mention of him moving in set a buzzing in his veins that only appeared when it was time to run away. Shit.

“Mick calm down okay? I didn’t know. I highly doubt that’s where Ian’s head is at anyway.”

Oh god. Mickey hadn’t even thought about Ian thinking about them moving in together. He was pretty sure he was either gonna be sick or pass out.

“Weed. I need my weed.”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“Mickey I got Chinese! We’ve eaten so much pizza in the last month that they know us by name it was getting embarrassing.” Ian chuckled setting the food on the counter.

When Mickey didn’t answer Ian went in search of his boyfriend. It was getting to the point where going the day without seeing Mickey made his heart do unpleasant little flips. He’d spend the entire day thinking about what he would do when he got back to the short little grumpy elf. There was an unusual pep in his step after Mickey had given him a key. The photographer had to correct him three times to stop smiling and start brooding, but he couldn’t help it. It was amazing the things that Mickey would do if you just gave him a chance. He’d made it his mission not to pressure him into anything, so the key offering was a complete and total shock to him. The happiest kind of shock you could ever imagine.

Mickey was in the middle of pounding his fist into clay angrily. Ian; however, now knew that Mickey only work with clay when he didn’t wanna think about something. Despite his amazingness at all things art, clay was definitely his weak point and he didn’t have much practice at it so working with the stuff always required all of his attention which left no room to think. He had ear buds in explaining why he hadn’t heard Ian calling him. Ian figured if they weren’t gonna think about what was bothering him they might as well have some fun while doing it.

He wrapped his arms around Mickey from behind pulling his body close. Mickey jumped not expecting the sudden contact. When he realized it was Ian, everything he’d been struggling to forget for the past couple hours had come rushing right back in. Before he knew it he was yanking the ear buds out of his ears and moving away from Ian’s embrace to put some distance between the two of them.

“What’s wrong Mick?” Ian asked strung by the blatant rejection.

Mickey winced. “Nothing. I gotta shower.”

“Well you smell fine to me. I—I brought food home like I said I would.” The redhead attempted to smile.

His eyes tightened at the word **_home_**. Maybe Mandy had been right after all.

“Not hungry, I’ll eat later.”

Ian stayed back struggling to understand what could have possibly gotten into him since he’d left that morning. He moved numbly to the kitchen puling take out boxes out and setting them on the counter. What if something happened with work? An unhappy customer or an idea he’d tried that just hadn’t worked. Maybe something with Mandy or Lip? He couldn’t think of anything that could happen that Mickey wouldn’t tell him about though. It took a minute, but when it hit it hit hard and it tore through him relentlessly in a way he hadn’t been expecting once so ever.

And suddenly he was angry. The reason that he’d been so happy all day was the actual cause of Mickey’s frustration. How could something so amazing make someone so upset? Of course he chickened out. Of fucking course. And now Ian had to pay the consequences and be ignored for the rest of the night because of an offer that he hadn’t even fucking asked for? The fury raged within him surging heavily through his blood and pulsing at his fingertips. He kind of wanted to hit something which surprised the usually non-violent man.

Meanwhile Mickey was in the show trying to get a grip. He knew he had a lot of explaining to do, and that Ian hadn’t deserved to get the cold shoulder when he walked in the door. The problem was figuring out what he needed to say. Mickey was shit when it came to words and the last thing he wanted to do was upset Ian more than he already had. Not only did he have to figure out what to say, but he had to struggle to understand his own feelings before he could even get to that step.

“Get a fucking hold of yourself.” He spat into the mirror.

Pulling on one of Ian’s sweatshirts and a pair of pants he headed back to the kitchen ready to be honest. The thing that always kept Mickey going was knowing how much he’d already sacrificed for Ian. It always felt like, “oh I’ve done this much, it’s just a little more.” It was just another thing on the list of things he’d only do for Ian. When he walked into the kitchen though, Ian was yanking his coat on clearly in a bad mood.

“Where ya going?”

Ian turned and flung the key at him hitting Mickey square in the chest.

“I didn’t fucking ask you for that okay? You offered. If you didn’t want to give me a key you didn’t have to. I was perfectly fine knocking every time I came over so if you think you’re gonna shut me out and treat me like shit because of your commitment issues you got another fucking thing coming, I can take my ass home.”

Mickey gaped at him a little unsure of what to say. It was his hamartia of sorts, constantly struggling to say how he felt to the people who truly deserved to hear it. It wasn’t often that Mickey Milkovich was speechless but if anyone could do it it’d be Gallagher. Anyone else wouldn’t have thought about speaking to him that way. But they’d started to rub off on one another. Ian had brought to light some soft spots in Mickey’s steel armor whereas Mickey had toughed Ian up a little bit. And he understood it in situations like this one. He understood why he wanted Gallagher around all the time. It was because no one treated him that way. It was because Ian wasn’t afraid to call him out on his shit, while still be able to treat him so kindly. No one was ever anything, but shitty towards him his whole life. Ian was a sigh of a relief, a beacon light in the darkness of Mickey’s life.

Ian turned to storm out of the apartment only to be stopped by Mickey’s hand on his chest who had quickly stepped to block the door.

“Would you just hold up a second tough guy?” He mumbled trying his usual route to lighten the mood.

“Don’t.” Ian spat, his eyes blazing.

Mickey sighed instantly recognizing the hurt and anger in those familiar eyes. It broke his heart, something he was still learning to adapt to. Feeling responsible for someone else’s pain and actually feeling remorse over it wasn’t exactly his forte, but he found himself looking outside of the person he thought he was and trying to be something different, something better.

“Mandy, she’s uh moving out.” He admitted hanging his head down low.

“Oh . . . Why? It’s not cause of Lip is it? I might actually fly back to Chicago to kick his ass.”

Mickey laughed clearly uncomfortable. “Ha, no that’s what I thought too.”

“What is it Mick?” Ian asked stepping closer to Mickey, all signs of anger gone.

“She . . . I told her I was gonna give you a key. To her that meant you were moving in and I guess she wants to go out and explore the world in her youth. And by the world I mean the apartment below us.”

Ian paused for a second trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. He hadn’t even thought about them moving in together, had known the horrific reaction that would pull out of Mickey.

“So you’re losing your shit because Mandy _thought_ we were moving in together?” he asked skeptically.

Mickey shrugged running the rough pad of his thumb along his bottom lip. Admitting things had never been his strong suit.

“Do you want me to move in?”

Blue eyes flashed wild and blazing as if to say how dare you ask that question, but there was a hesitance hidden within their depths. Ian knew how to work Mickey though, knew when to be gentle and soft, when he should push or when it was time to back off. He knew that Mickey wouldn’t pull away when he wrapped his arms around him fingers dipping to the small of his back. It was comforting, warm, just like him lulling Mickey into talking.

“I—I can’t.” He whispered.

“No one asked you to Mick. You don’t have to be upset over this.”

“You shouldn’t have to ask me Gallagher. I should be able to just do it. You practically live here anyway what would the difference really be? You don’t leave every couple days for more clothes? You chip in on the rent? I’m being ridiculous.”

“You said it not me.” Ian grinned chuckling when Mickey scowled at him. “Look my lease isn’t even up for another month or so anyway, so how about you take some time to grow a pair and then ask me later huh?”

Mickey looked up at him curiously and Ian found it to be kind of incredibly adorable with the height difference.

“Really?”

Ian shrugged. “Sure. I’d love to live with you Mick, but I can wait. You’re worth waiting for.”

Mickey bit back the smile forming on his face but it was no use. The obnoxious ass redhead was just too perfect.

“Don’t be such a fag Gallagher.” He smirked, but his hands were already slipping into ginger hair.

They kissed, the argument long forgotten leaving Ian to quickly take control of Mickey the way that he liked it. The more time moved and the more time they spent together the more experimenting they continued to engage in. After years of keeping quiet out of guilt Mickey was finally free to let go in bed. This led to Ian making a shocking yet beautiful discovery. His boyfriend was a bit of a screamer with a raging marking kink. It also just so happened that hearing Mickey cry out and keen uncontrollably brought on some of the best orgasms of Ian’s entire life. So they fucked like they always did rough and hard and frantic.

Ian licked the sweat from the nape of Mickey’s neck rutting his hips into soft pale flesh. Mickey’s legs were wrapped tightly around Gallagher’s back pulling him in deeper beneath the sheets. He was struggling so hard to keep the sounds in with every movement of Ian’s body even though it never lasted very long. How could he with a cock like that inside of him?

“What Mick you not gonna scream for me today?” Ian chuckled breathlessly.

His fingers squeezed at the pasty skin of his boyfriend finding immense pleasure in how much Mickey loved to be touched.

“Fuck off Gallagher.” He huffed finger nails digging bluntly into Ian’s ass. “Deeper, fuck me deeper.”

“Can’t even say please. You’re so goddamn rude Mickey.” The taller man growled plunging his hips forward with an audible snap.

Mickey wasn’t sure if the world had ended and he’d gone to heaven, but if not that was as close to heaven on earth as it got.

“Oh shit. Am I still in trouble for freaking out?”

Instead of answering his question Ian just drilled his boyfriend into his bed. Ian had a thing about being polite and, well, Mickey was only polite like point-three percent of his life, so angry sex wasn’t ever far away from them. Ian even got the sneaking suspicion that the dark-haired prick would get him riled up just to get a good fuck out of it… which he happened not to mind at all but that’s not the point. The bed began to shake and creak loudly from the force of Ian’s thrusts slamming heavily into the wall, and Mickey couldn’t have been happier.

God was it good. To feel him reach depths inside of his body that he was so sure had never been touched was astounding. His skin felt hot and tingly like his whole body had fallen asleep and Gallagher was just shaking it awake. Every bite and suck and taste fueled the lust in Mickey’s veins causing seriously palpitations in his chest. His fingers eased over Ian’s sweaty back and down to the beautiful existence that was his ass. He gripped and pulled at it desperate to feel that feeling everywhere. It also helped him stay grounded, released the sensation that he might just float away from how good the red head could make him feel.

“Uh! Fuck, fuck, fuck right there jesus!” Mickey cried out tugging Ian’s closer.

Ian bit down on Mickey’s nipple sharply nibbling his way to the hallow of his throat and grinding his hips down on the glorious bundle of nerves that drove him crazy. Once upon a time Mickey would’ve been ashamed for his toes to curl in pleasure, but now he embraced it clinging furiously to his boyfriend as his orgasm over took him cum shooting all over their chests.

“Oh shit.” Ian sighed pulling Mickey in for a kiss.

They tumbled through the sheets biting at each other lips and licking inside the other’s mouth. Mickey rolled on top of Ian to change their position and began to rock his hips firmly working to get the other man off.

“Fuck Mickey, that’s so good.” Ian whimpered fingers sinking into his hips.

Those beautiful hips of his were already colored with fresh bruises, and Ian couldn’t decide whether the sight of the bruises was hotter than the sight of Mickey riding his cock to save his life. Everything was perfect. They weren’t arguing, or having a screaming match in the middle of the kitchen, they were being loving and caring and screwing the ever loving shit out of each other. Why anyone would want to interrupt that is a question that may never be answered, yet sure enough, Mickey’s phone lit up in the middle of their fuck fest to alert him that his sister was the cockblock of the century.

“L—let it ring.” Ian groaned clawing at Mickey’s chest.

Mickey’s hips didn’t stutter grinding down roughly, but his fingers reached instinctively for his phone.

“That’s Mandy’s ringtone man something could be wrong with the apartment.”

Ian growled possessively. “Mickey Milkovich if you stop riding my cock to talking to your fucking sister who is one floor below us I am never fucking you again!”

“Jesus someone gets a little bit of a temper when it comes to their fucking huh?” Mickey smirked swirling his hips again and causing Ian to groan. “Calm down tough guy you couldn’t hold out for a day let alone forever.”

He reached for the bed post for leverage lifting and dropping himself into Ian’s lap with renewed vigor.

“Fuuuuuuuuck!” Ian moaned.

“Shut the fuck up!” Mickey gasped answering his phone. “What the hell do you want?”

“YOUR BEDROOM IS ABOVE MY FUCKING KITCHEN AND I CANNOT ENJOY MY FIRST MEAL IN MY NEW APARTMENT WHEN YOU ARE BEGGING IAN GALLAGHER TO GIVE IT TO YOU HARDER YOU FUCKING DISGUSTING ASS HUMAN BEINGS!”

Ian, unaware of the conversation, grabbed a hold of Mickey’s waist pulling him roughly against him getting tired of the slowness.

“Shit Gallagher,” He groaned putting the phone between his shoulder and ear to free up his hands.

“Get off the phone. I want you so bad Mick.”

“Relax, just give me a second.”

“Says the asshole who came already! I’m getting blue balls over here.”

Jesus he was so dramatic.

“S—Sorry uh . . . why don’t you go out to eat we should be done by the time you get back. I’ll pay.”

“ARE YOU STILL FUCKING HIM WHILE YOU’RE TALKING TO ME?”

It was a bit of a catch twenty-two. To fuck or not fuck your boyfriend at the risk of your sister killing you for it. To not fuck his boyfriend after the mess they’d endured over the last couple months seemed like a travesty. To fuck with Mandy and her food seemed like a death wish. Ian had no time to wait for Mickey to make that decision. He rolled over taking his boyfriend with him and snatching the phone out of his hand.

“Mandy I am very sorry, but I am a little busy here trying to fuck your brother. Whatever it is we will come help in ten minutes tops but he is not leaving this bed until I’ve came dammit.”

He ended the call and tossed it to the side before picking up the steady slamming of their hips from earlier.

“Damn Gallagher, you’re so needy.” Mickey moaned.

Those were the last words he was able to get out before he was being pounded into the mattress again.

 

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

“What did you do last night?” Dr. Wonder asked taking in the smiling face of her patient.

Ian just shrugged not meeting the wondering eyes of his therapist.

“Nothing much. Just . . . hung out.”

“Yea? Who’d you hang out with?”

She said it like they were at a sleepover or some shit painting their nails and talking about high school crushes. Ian would’ve loved to shut her down and talk about anything else . . . accept for the fact that there was nothing in his life he wanted to talk about more than Mickey. His family was still a rough spot that they barely ever touched on, no matter how badly Laura tried. His relationship was the one thing going right, and the one thing that made sense and made him happy, so she always used that to start off with. It was the spoon of sugar that made the bitter medicine of his past go down.

He bit back his grin playing with a pillow. “Mickey.”

She could hear the love and adoration that saturated his tone when he said his name. And it was absolutely fucking adorable.

“And things are going well with Mickey I see?”

“What makes you say that?”

“That kiss you shared when he dropped you off this morning.” She smirked.

Dr. Wonder watched her patient squirm as his face turned crimson immediately. It brought her genuine happiness to see Ian happy, especially to see him happy in a healthy relationship. That was the most important thing.

“He gave me a key to his apartment. Then his sister thought we were moving in together and he freaked out a little and I might’ve thought he just didn’t want me to have the key so I threw it at him and we fought a little. But he wants to move forward with me. It just takes a little longer with Mickey. He’s not used to being so open, but he’s so good to me I think I’d wait forever. I mean I love him.”

She nodded bobbing her foot aimlessly. “So you would live with Mickey, if he asked you?”

“Yea. That’s not crazy right? It’s been six months, but I don’t know if we count the time when he broke up with me or not.”

“Seeing as how you were still having intercourse I feel like it should count. Nothing is crazy if it makes sense to you.”

“Stop saying intercourse Laura.” He smirked before continuing with his thoughts. “I don’t know when I think about my life now he’s always a part of it. It’s like what are Mickey and I gonna do this weekend, or when do we have the same day off? I don’t wanna be without him which is . . . kind of nerve wracking. I’ve never trusted someone the way I trust Mickey before. He keeps me like, grounded.”

“That’s so cute.” She sighed happily.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Can we be professional here?”

“Yea, yes no of course. Uhm family. We gotta talk about it.”

“Ugh. Why? Why do we have to talk about things that make me uncomfortable?” He whined.

“Because that’s what therapy is, dear. You basically just define the word actually.”

“Yea, yea just get on with it.”

Ian hadn’t talked to any of his family since their first and last visit to New York. Fiona didn’t call. Lip didn’t call. Debbie still sent him post cards with little messages from Carl and Liam, but that was it, and it wasn’t any different than the way life had been before the infamous trip. Ian found it hard to care or feel remorse for anything he’d said. He felt like his family had turned their back on him, and it hurt more than anything because they had been so close growing up. Neither Fiona nor Lip seemed to understand that. Frank was fine, fuck him. But his brother? Ian had been convinced that the sun shined out of Lip’s ass. And now he was going months and months without talking to his own brother. It fucking sucked.

“And calling him, telling him how you feel is completely out of the question because?”

Ian groaned. “Because we’re fucking Gallaghers. We don’t talk about our feelings; it’s just not what we do.”

“But you’re there for each other when you need it. You’ve told me all these stories about Lip. Him getting you out of bad situations, figuring out what kind of meds you needed, picking you up after Ned ditched you. These aren’t things that brothers who don’t give a shit wouldn’t do. You have to know that Ian.”

“I do, I do know that but . . . he abandoned me. Everyone always leaves.” He mumbled looking down.

Ian didn’t like talking about it. It hurt too fucking much. His abandonment issues were a major problem for him, and it was something he was just barely starting to get through with Mickey. He didn’t wanna start going into it with Lip. Didn’t wanna say how much it destroyed him to not have his brother to talk to anymore.

“I know it feels like everyone leaves, I get it. We’re making such progress though. You know that you deserve to be held onto, that you are worthy of being loved. That’s what Mickey represents for you right? And if you can fix things with Mickey, and be happy with the way your life is right now, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to give it a shot with your family.”

Their time ends without him having to talk too much about it, but it’s still on his mind when he leaves the building. It’s still on his mind when he goes to work and poses for some fashion magazine. It’s still on his mind when he gets on the subway. But like most of the time, his thoughts wavered to Mickey and once they were on him he couldn’t really move away from it.

Ian: _You done with work yet I could use a date to the place_

Mickey: _Everything okay?_

Ian:  _Therapy stuff. Need you._

Mickey: _Meet you there in twenty._

Ian couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. He sat at their booth looking out the window and just waiting for that adorable midget of his. He came walking up in the jeans that Ian bought him after growing tired of pants that didn’t do his boyfriend’s ass justice stomping a cigarette into the ground and forcing Ian to fall even deeper in love with him. His feelings for this man were getting a little out of a hand at this point.

“You alright?” Mickey asked immediately sliding into their usual booth.

But Ian was just grinning like the big goofy idiot he was. Mickey was expecting puffy eyes, maybe a runny nose when he ran out of his meeting to get to their pizza spot. That’s the way it had been the few times he’d texted him after a therapy session. It was a little underwhelming if he was being completely honest.

“Yes?”

“Very reassuring, Ian thank you.” He sighed turning towards the owner of the joint. “Yo polo how about the usual huh?”

“Laura thinks I should talk to my family try and fix things, says I should start with Lip.”

Mickey snorted reaching to eat off Ian’s plate. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Cause I miss them Mick.” He mumbled.

“You do? How come you didn’t tell me that?”

“I don’t know… you don’t like to talk about feelings.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation way too many times. Something’s on your mind you can tell me, just don’t expect me to spill my guts about my own shit every two seconds. I’m a changed man Gallagher not a different person.”

He expected him to smile the way he usually did, but there was still a frowned plastered on that obnoxiously adorable face of his.

“Come on frownieMcfrownems where that’s smile from when I first got here?”

“I don’t wanna smile Mick, I wanna eat my pizza and wallow in my misery. I just wanna do it with you beside me.”

Mickey sized him up trying to figure out what to do with him. Feelings might not be the easiest thing for him to deal with, but Ian was. It was actually weird how easily he could slip into making another person happy. The ginger just shouldn’t be sad, it looked all wrong on that chiseled jaw of his. He moved from his side of the booth to Ian’s poking at the frown with his pointer finger.

“Okay what in the fuck are you doing?” Ian asked.

“I’m trying to push your frown upside down. Stop being an ass and smile for me firecrotch.”

Ian looked at his boyfriend with curious eyes trying to figure out why he was so perfect. He didn’t even have to try to smile. The thought of Mickey trying was enough to cause that familiar heat in his cheeks, a strange stirring in his gut.

“I’m kind of in love with you.”  He murmured, dazed.

Mickey smiled. “So I’ve heard. Look you want your family to be in your life I’ll support it or whatever. Let’s just take it slow, don’t want my firecrotch getting hurt again alright?”

“Mkay, how about a kiss for your firecrotch?”

And Mickey didn’t even have to think about it, just pressed his lips against his boyfriend’s with ease. It was so simple for them. They loved each other, and they were happy together in a way that neither of them had ever gotten the chance to be before. With the dark horizon over and done with things were moving forward, and for once neither of them was afraid of what was to come. Things were . . . **_good._**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated my loves!   
> come be my friend because i have none tbh: zankiefanatic.tumblr.com


	10. The Move In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every day he seemed to pound harder and harder at the walls inside of him, and every day he got closer to knocking one down. Mickey didn’t want to be anywhere that Ian wasn’t going to be. In the end it was this realization, not to mention his eagerness for some head that night that led to him making the jump and asking Gallagher to move in. And like most things once it was over and done with he found himself wondering why he’d freaked out so much to begin with.

Friday night was date night, thanks to Ian and his insistence on being an adorable couple. Mickey would’ve been much happier drinking beer and watching terrible television together but nooooooooooo, Gallagher had to make them like . . . do stuff. He didn’t admit that he kind of like it, Mickey would never do that, but Ian could tell that his complaints only lasted long enough to fill his daily quota of grumpy Mickey before going along with whatever Ian planned. With Mickey’s art bringing in more than a steady pay check and Ian’s modeling kind of going somewhere it seemed like they both had extra money to spend anyway. With Mandy gone, they found themselves chipping in for stuff together. It was them moving closer together, creating more of a life together.

“You’re late.” Ian called sternly from the kitchen as Mickey finally walked into the apartment.

“Yea, sorry, some boutique wanted a piece for only two bones. Had to tell ‘em Mickey Milkovich don’t settle for that shit of a price.”

“How much you talk em up to?” Ian grinned proudly.

“Five hundred. And it was worth every penny.”

“My little negotiator. That’s actually kind of sexy.”

He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist giving him that all too loving smile before pressing their lips together. Seven months in did nothing for their appetite for each other. Simple pecks almost always turned into more. Hugs leading to the squeezing of asses and the digging into of hips with dull finger nails.

Mickey was really good at sex, so it was the one area where he never held back or felt hesitance with Ian. And Ian loved it, craved it, the kinky little shit. It was a wonder either of them could go to work in the morning granted Mickey’s work didn’t require actually leaving the house.

“Not that negotiating pompous rich pricks out of money doesn’t always get me going, but uh I think something’s burning.” Mickey said.

“My kugel!!!” Ian gasped running for the kitchen.

“The fuck’s a kugel?”

“You’ll see! Go wash up so I can get you all dirty again after dinner.”

See? Kinky little shit.

They sat down to have dinner, which was pretty good for something Mickey had never heard of. Ian wanted to take care of Mickey; he made that clear with everything he did. It was just the way he was. Mickey had never had someone care enough to take care of him, he wasn’t used to it. But he was trying, and he was enjoying the attempt with Ian. Ian was the one that cooked and made Mickey’s plate him without him asking. He didn’t baby him that would’ve been annoying as fuck. He just . . . cared. And it felt so fucking nice to have someone care you.

“How’d your physics test go?”

“B plus. Thank you for teaching me how to math babe.”

“Yea, yea,” Mickey mumbled. “Don’t need you flunking out on me. You gotta take care of my ass in my old age Gallagher.”

“I’ll do my best.” He gleamed. “I uh talked to Lip today.”

“Yea, how’d that suck fest go?”

“Don’t be mean Mick, I was a little over dramatic that day.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t let them make you think you’re crazy or wrong for feeling what you feel. You were right and your family was dead ass wrong. End of fucking story.”

Ian’s eyes grew big and wide taking Mickey in for all he was worth. Those looks constantly made Mickey feel self-conscious, but they were always acts of love.

“What are you looking at? Eat your goddamn kugel.”

Ian laughed going back to his plate.

“I’ve never felt . . . protected in a relationship before.”

“You’ve never been in a legitimate relationship before.”

“Guess I got lucky then.”

Mickey smiled before going back to his plate.

They finished dinner before Mickey went to load the dishwasher, the only job Ian actually trusted him with completely. Like most Friday nights they enjoyed a movie pirated off some big companies network and smoked weed. They never paid much attention to the movie before the other would just become too irresistible and they’d make out on the couch. Ian hadn’t been back to his own apartment in two weeks, living off a combination of Mickey’s clothes and shit he got from fashion shoots. They’d yet to talk about Ian moving in again and Ian wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. He was determined to let Mickey find it within himself to want him there that way. He knew it would be worth it to wait, but a part of him was curious just how long the wait would be.

“Could you do me a favor?” He asked kissing his way along Mickey’s neck.

Mickey grunted. “Can it wait until after you’re done with this?”

“Well technically yea, but no. I need to borrow some money.”

“How much?”

“Six hundred seventy-five dollars.”

Mickey’s fingers were knotting into red hair and tugging him closer.

“And what the entire fuck do you need that kind of money for?”

“I gotta pay rent,” he cooed peppering his neck with kisses. “and school, but I don’t  get paid for my last gig till the weekend.”

It wasn’t the best lie he’d ever told. Mickey new Ian had a savings; it was something they both prided themselves on. The ability to look into your bank account and see actual numbers was a lot for two south siders. They weren’t living pay check to pay check and Mickey knew that. Luckily he was a little preoccupied with trying to shove Ian’s head down to his crotch. Regardless you never could get much past a Milkovich; blow jobs just seemed to soften the blow.

“How about you show me how good your mouth works and you can move in later instead of trying to bait me with stupid ass questions while I’m trying to get off.”

And that was it. It wasn’t spectacular or romantic, but it didn’t need to be. For Ian the action itself was always nicer than the dressing on top. Not to mention when it came to Mickey that was about as romantic as it got.

The next morning Ian cooked breakfast. A huge, ridiculous feast that reminded him of home. He invited Mandy over, made two different types of pancakes, bacon and sausage, and Mickey’s cheesy eggs. His meds had him a little jittery that morning, but cooking was a good way to get out all of his energy. He really wanted to see Mickey, to be with Mickey, so he dashed off towards the bedroom and hopped on top of the lump in the sheets eager to start the day.

“What the fuuuuuuuck.” Mickey groaned from beneath the covers.

“Get up already. I made breakfast, Mandy’s here. It’s a good day Mick come be in love with me.”

“I can be in love with you in my sleep dipshit.” He grumbled.

“Miiiiiiick.” Ian whined straddling his hips and grinding down slowly. “I worked so hard this morning, don’t you wanna see?”

There was a pause beneath the pillow. “How hard?”

“Sooo hard.” He insisted punctuating each word with a roll of his hips.

“Christ Ian.” Mickey moaned.

“If you wake up I’m sure I could make it worth your while in the shower.”

Mickey grinned. “You gonna fuck me while we have company Gallagher?”

“I’m gonna fuck you raw with the satisfaction of knowing your sister can hear every sound you make.”

“You’re a kinky little shit you know that?”

“Yep! Now come on your coffee’s getting cold.”

He sprang off the bed just as fast as he’d come leaving Mickey sexually frustrated and tired.

“Your brother likes it rough.” Ian smirked back in the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it so does yours.”

“Oh fuck you.” He chuckled. “I miss you not being here twenty-four seven.”

“Yea well some of us are a little nicer and only fuck their friend’s brothers in separate apartments.”

“Lip’s been here?”

“Yea, spent a week down here for spring break. You still weren’t talking though.”

“Jesus you two always gotta spend the morning talking about devouring dicks all day? Or in Gallagher’s case getting your dick devoured all day.” Mickey mumbled making his way sluggishly into the kitchen.

They shrugged in unison. “What else do you talk about over breakfast?”

Ian waited until Mickey was close enough to grab him by the hips and settle him between his thighs hands working over that ass he was so found of.

“Especially knowing I’ll get to come home to his every day. You’re distracting babe.”

“The fuck I tell you about calling me babe dickbreath.”

“I did suck your dick before we went to bed so I guess that’s an accurate statement.”

“Awwwwww your guys’ coupley banter is so cute! I want love like that.” Mandy sighed.

“Aren’t you fucking Carl or Liam or Fiona or one of the other thousands of Gallaghers?”

Mickey laughed as Mandy flipped him off and threw a grape at his head.

“Hey you two I just cooked all this so either grab a plate and shut the fuck up or get out of my kitchen.”

Ian had the entire day planned despite the Milkovich’s being completely unaware of these plans until it was time to put them into action. He wanted to go get boxes and pack shit and listen to music and talk about irrelevant shit and make each other laugh. Mickey didn’t realize someone could get so happy to spend more time with him then they already did. He and Gallagher were pretty much inseparable. Mick didn’t have friends because he generally hated people and he was perfectly okay with that until a certain redhead came in and turned out to not be half bad. Every day he seemed to pound harder and harder at the walls inside of him, and every day he got closer to knocking one down. Mickey didn’t want to be anywhere that Ian wasn’t going to be. In the end it was this realization, not to mention his eagerness for some head that night that led to him making the jump and asking Gallagher to move in. And like most things once it was over and done with he found himself wondering why he’d freaked out so much to begin with.

“I’ll go start the shower.” Ian murmured kissing Mickey’s hair.

Mickey ran his thumb over his lip contemplating the things that awaited him in that bathroom.

“I’ll be there in a second.”

“Hurry.”

Mandy grinned as Ian disappeared from the kitchen.

“You’re like in love. Like . . . normal human with actual emotions and feelings type of a love. You asked him to move in too, that’s huge Mick.”

He shrugged his shoulders not comfortable with being anything but his old harsh self with her.

“Made the most sense. He was wasting money on an apartment he never stayed, asked to borrow some money for rent so I told him to just forget it. S’not such a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes. “For you and me it’s a very big deal and you damn well know it. I had to convince myself Lip was a onetime thing every night he stayed, because the thought of someone being in a house with me alone that long for any other reason was terrifying. We know why. We know why it’s more for us than it is to other people.”

He nodded sullenly because she was right and there no getting around that. Milkovichs weren’t grumpy and sarcastic and shitheads because they thought it was cute or interesting. Life had made them the way that they were. Being shit on time and time again with no real clue of what genuine love felt like had turned them cynical at a young age. They were damaged goods and no one had ever stuck around long after figuring that out. Or maybe they’d just never given anyone the chance to.

“Maybe . . . maybe letting someone in isn’t always asking for trouble. Sometimes you find someone who gives a shit. Although I don’t know what I’ll do when he leaves me. I feel like I’d rather go back to pussy than be without Firecrotch.”

“If he leaves shithead. You two could very well be end game. Do you think he’ll make you cover up the tattoos on the wedding day? Besides you and I both know you’ve never actually gotten near a pussy.” She cackled.

Mickey rolled his eyes at his sister blatant and obnoxious optimism.

“It’s been seven months can we not talk about my wedding day you dumbass.”

“Counting the months huh Mick?” She snorted.

He flipped her off but it only caused her to laugh harder.

“Yea fuck you I’m going to take a shower.” He muttered stalking off towards his bedroom.

“Don’t drop the soap! OR in your case do drop it I guess. . .  Enjoy the soap you two!”

Mickey rolled his eyes moving into the bathroom where he could happily shut out the obnoxious ramblings of his little sister and focus on the better things in life. For instance Ian’s naked body under the steady flow of water which was a magnificent occurrence.  It was instances like that one, that reminded Mickey that he was indeed dating a model, and that he looked nothing like that of his boyfriend once so ever. He felt like Ian’s body was basically everything that he wasn’t. Ian was long and lean, chiseled sharply in all of the right places. His skin was pale and creamy with just a dusting of freckles whereas Mickey just straight up lacked pigment in a totally not hot or model-esc way. It was the hair and the lips and the eyes and those fucking cheekbones. It was everything about him that just made Mickey feel sick to his stomach in the most beautiful way imaginable. The comparison between them was pathetic at best. Except for the ass.

Mickey’s ass defied the laws of gravity and he fucking knew it, even embraced it with a tighter pair of jeans when he really wanted to get into Gallagher’s head. Anyway back to the story….

“You sure you want me to move in.” Ian murmured kissing his way along Mickey’s shoulder.

Mickey grunted. “I said I wanted you to move in didn’t I?”

“Well…. Technically you just said I could move my shit in as long as I stopped trying to trick you while you were trying to get off.”

“You make it sound bad when you say it that way.” The shorter man mumbled.

“It’s alright. It’s you. I wouldn’t want you any other way than how you are right now. I just don’t want you to feel rushed. I said I’d give you time and I meant it.”

The way he nuzzled his head into Mickey’s like an overeager puppy was just the most obnoxiously adorable thing ever. Mickey still couldn’t figure out what it was about him that made him tick. But the longer that Ian stuck around the more he began to hope that he never did.

“I want you here alright? Now stop busting my balls and make out with me before we run out of hot water.”

“M’kay.”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“Look how happy the little fucker is Mick.”

They looked on as Ian ran cheerfully to the back of some random store where the manager said he could take all the boxes his heart desired. Mickey thought he had seen the grown man almost start skipping, but he was barely holding back a full blown smile over this cheesy idiot, so he chose not to dwell on it for long. It was actually quite ridiculous how happy Ian being happy made Mickey. He knew that the reason for all of the enthusiasm was that he was moving in, and Mickey couldn’t have been more excited. It felt weird, doing that type of shit with Gallagher, but it was a good weird. The kind of weird that makes you like appreciative for the little shit in life.

“Mickey help me carry these boxes!” Ian demanded.

Mickey couldn’t help the smile that came bursting out. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Yea, yea, Carrot Top I’m coming.”

Ian piled flattened box after flattened box into Mickey’s arms as if they were packing up the white house instead of a shitty ass tiny ass apartment. And it didn’t even upset Mickey. Damn how things had changed. He didn’t mind when Ian called him his “big strong man”, or the fact that Gallagher insisted on documenting every second of the fucking day with fucking pictures and snap chats and numerous other forms of social media bullshit. It should have driven Mickey up a fucking wall, yet he found himself kind of charmed by it all.

They all stumbled back to Ian’s apartment with boxes and snacks in tow before beginning the long and grueling process of packing up all of his shit. He didn’t have much, having moved to New York with nothing but his back pack and one lonely duffle bag, but in the six years that the apartment had been his home things had begun to take root. A part of him was happy that he was digging everything up there because it meant he could create more roots with Mickey.

Ian had a very extensive record collection which he spent almost an hour packing up alone. It was everything from like seventy’s disco to Beyonce’s latest album. He was serious about his music and it was probably one of the substantial things to get him through the rougher times with his mental disorder. There hadn’t been much time for music in the Gallagher house, but all it took was one photographer playing music at a shoot and Ian was hooked. Mickey thought it was kind of cute that Ian had some tangible possession that he couldn’t live without. For him it was art and for Ian it was music.

Mandy was put in charge of the kitchen and Mickey was on bedroom/bathroom duty. It was tedious and somewhat annoying, but it was Ian, so they didn’t mind. In the process of packing all the shit up in the bathroom he came across Ian’s meds and it was somewhat unsettling. It was bottle after bottle occupying an entire row and a half within the medicine cabinet. He found relief in knowing he could keep better track of Ian now, could release some of the burden with dealing with that shit all by himself. Ian eventually appeared in the bathroom leaning on the edge of the doorway with his arms crossed and eyed him suspiciously.

“You sure you okay with this?”

“Yea. More so than I thought I’d be.” Mickey admitted firmly.

Ian nodded looking hesitantly at the ground, releasing that softer more vulnerable side that was reserved for Mickey. Mickey leaned against the battered old sink watching his boyfriend battle with whatever it was he wanted to say. He was about to make some snarky, smartass comment when Gallagher leaned away from the doorway, sauntering over to Mickey, and kissed him. His hesitant lips quickly melted under the fierce pressing of their mouths. It could’ve easily gone to tugging at flesh, teeth clanking hungrily together, but it didn’t. Instead Ian wrapped his arms around his tiny boyfriend’s neck keeping him close even as he pulled away from the kiss.

“Thank you . . . I never got the chance to just say thank you.”

There he went again tugging at the mangled, knotted strings of Mickey’s heart and turning him into a pathetic teddy bear.

“Don’t mention it.” Mickey murmured running his thumb gently against the soft, plump skin of Ian’s bottom lip.

“I love you ya know, so much.”

And Mickey almost said. Almost let the words come rushing out of him proudly in the tiny, empty bathroom of Gallagher’s old apartment. It could’ve been so easy. To just let the words roll off of his tongue. But Mandy felt the need to interrupt with a question about fucking pots and pans leaving Ian to bite Mickey’s thumb lightly before detangling their awkward limbs.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” Ian smiled disappearing just as fast as he’d come.

The encounter left a bitter taste in Mickey’s mouth most because . . . he had been ready. He could feel it burning hot and satisfying  on his tongue. Mickey knew he could say it without the irritation of Gallagher trying to get a random dick in him bubbling in his veins or a blow job in the back of a fucking Uber. He didn’t like to be seen as weak. Something about being told he didn’t _have_ to do something just made him want to do it even more.

Fucking Gallagher.

“So you didn’t have enough money for rent this month, but you can afford a fucking moving truck?” Mandy asked stuffing the last box into the truck.

Ian smiled shyly. “I got a uh discount.”

“Uh huh sureeee.”

“You wanna go get Chinese after we unload all this shit?” He asked Mickey nudging him with his hip.

“Sure.”

It was another hour of dragging boxes into the elevator before ditching Mandy at work. Ian noticed that the light mood of his boyfriend had quickly diminished, but he chose not to say anything. His mood was good enough for the both of them and he refused to let Mickey ruin that. So he dragged Mickey to their favorite Chinese place, holding one of his boyfriend’s hands in both of his and playing with the fingers.

“I talked to Lip the other day. . . he wants me to come back home for a weekend, figure shit out.” Ian mumbled. “I told him it depends.”

“On what?” Mickey asked in spite of himself.

“On you.”

“What about me?”

“Would you come with me? Protect me from the scary Gallaghers?”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t need fucking protecting.”

“You know my brother and my sister. They like to . . . control me, get me to change my mind to suit their needs. They can’t help it, they think they’re doing me a favor but—just come with me. I won’t be so nervous with you there.”

Mickey couldn’t deny his natural instinct to protect Gallagher. It was astoundingly inconvenient at times, especially when he wanted to be mad at him, but he could never care enough to try and stop it. He liked thinking that he was the one that could help Ian, that could keep him level headed through everything.

“How we getting to this shit hole?” He asked eyes on Ian’s fingers intertwining lazily with his.

“We’ll fly of course.”

“Ugh I hate flying.”

Ian grinned. “Babe you hate everything.”

“Yea well… things are generally unpleasant.”

“Not me though right Mick?”

The fucking grin on that kid should’ve been enough for him to kick his ass. Something about him was so endearing that it trumped Mickey’s love for kicking ass. Maybe that’s why he kept him around.

“I haven’t murdered you yet, so I suppose you’ll do. Just stop calling me babe goddammit.” He mumbled.

This for some reason was so amusing to Ian that he started to cry and hold his sides with laughter. Fucking idiot.

“Yo can we get some service over here?!”

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

“You fucking jackass!” Mickey yelled slamming their apartment door shut.

Ian just continued to cackle sliding their left overs onto the counter.

“You should’ve seen your face though. It was the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

Mickey had managed to get hit on in fucking Chinese restaurant. And Gallagher just decided to roll with it. Not say anything. The poor guy had been all bold, came up and asked for Mickey’s number and that prick of a redhead just sat there and did nothing. Jesus, it was a horrifying. He forced Mickey to admit to dating the piece of shit, and then tried to deny it until he gave in a kissed the red headed fucker. By the time he pulled away, the guy had fortunately gotten the hint.

“Fuck you Gallagher.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m done, swear.” Ian insisted taking deep breaths.

Mickey sneered. “Yea you said that in the fucking cab on the way over here.”

“Alright I’ll make it up to you. I—I’ll go make you a bath okay?”

The dark haired man quirked an eyebrow. “The fuck I look like taking a bath?”

“Oh don’t play dumb I found your secret stash of bubbles.”

“Yo remember when I said I didn’t hate you? I lied.”

“Liking what you like don’t make you a bitch Mick.” Ian grinned wickedly.

The whole let the fucking ginger giant move in seemed like it would cause him a lot less frustration that it was turning out to. Who just goes digging into a man’s personal shit until he finds his muscle soak(because they most certainly were not fucking bubbles)? He followed him into the bathroom where he began to fill the bath tub with water and suds. Ian was leaning against the tub his legs long and awkward across the bathroom floor. He pulled Mickey close so that denim touched denim running his hands along his back.

“I’m really glad you invited me to move in with you. I don’t really wanna be somewhere that you’re not.” He murmured.

Mickey bit his lip slipping his arms around Ian’s pale neck.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

The taller man chuckled. “You’re such a man of many words you know that?”

“Oh shit that reminds me!”

Mickey pulled one of his arms back quickly socking Ian in the arm.

“Ouch Mickey! What the fuck was that for?” Ian hissed.

“For not giving me a chance to say I love you back asshole. I can say it ya know. I’m not fucking inept nor do I need to have some super serious or sexual moment to do it. I love you. It’s not that hard.”

He stared at him a minute, letting the words slowly seep in before a smile could begin to stretch his face. No one could smile like Ian. It was like the sun just settled between his lips flashing wide and bright for all to see. He could be sexy and give a devilish grin, but nothing could compare to the goofy perfectness of his real smile.

“I love you too….Babe.”

Mickey shoved Ian off just as he started to laugh causing him to fall backwards in the tub soaking the entire ass of his jeans.

“Now that, that’s rich!” He chortled.

“Ah fuck off.” Ian grinned. “If you wanted to get me out of my pants all you had to do was ask.”

Mickey flipped him off and left to go prepare for his fucking amazing ass bubble bath. Not even Gallagher could take that away from him.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“Scooch forward Mick.”

“You wanna tell me what the entire fuck you’re doing firecrotch?!” Mickey yelled around a cigarette.

“Taking a bath with my grumpy old man of a boyfriend. Jesus, I thought I was finally dating a young one looks like you’re the oldest of them all.”

“Fuck you man you don’t get to disrespect a man’s bubbles and then try and get all up in the shit.” He protested moving to give him room anyway.

It was a tiny ass bath tub that fit Mickey perfectly, but Ian…. Not so much. His knees came up all the way out of the water his body bunched up at the back of the tub. It was kind of incredibly cute. He’d managed to get Mickey into a bubble bath and have it with him. Score for Gallagher in the cute as fuck relationship department.

So there they sat and maybe they weren’t drinking wine with expensive chocolates and fucking cooing over how much they loved each other, but they didn’t need to. Mickey sat with his back pressed into Ian’s chest doodling in his notebook while Ian lie back, eyes closed and enjoying the warmth of the moment. His fingers reached up running smoothly through dark locks of hair the smoke of Mickey’s cigarette wafting through the air. It was peaceful and sweet and perfect.

“What’cha drawing?” Ian murmured leaning his chin against Mickey’s shoulder.

He held up the sketch pad to display a replica of the scene before them. He’d drawn the tub and their legs so closely pressing together within the tub, and had even managed to draw the smoke sputtering off into the air from his cigarette.

“Wow you’re so talented Mick.”

His hands skimmed along Mickey’s stomach before fingers intertwined holding their bodies a smidge bit closer.

Mickey snickered. “Yea I guess you could say that. Probably just gonna be selling my shit to tiny ass art houses in the city for the rest of my life.”

“Hey you don’t know that. When I met you the biggest thing you’d done was build up a following to buy your pieces online. Now you have legitimate exhibits that want to display your work. You’ll get there. And I’ll just be your sexy model boytoy on the side.”

It got him to smile, which often times seemed like Ian’s main goal in life, because that smile just did weird and enticing things to his heart.

“You really wanna pose in underwear for the rest of your life?”

Ian sighed. “Not really. I like it, it’s fun and exciting and every time I’m on set it’s something different. Sometimes I think I’d like to try photography, it always fascinates me when I do photo shoots or whatever. Then I think maybe I should put this degree I’m getting to good use and get some nine to five business job. I guess I haven’t found my passion yet, besides you of course. I’m very passionate about you.”

“Shut the fuck up Gallagher.” Mickey murmured pressing his head into Ian’s chest. “You do whatever the fuck you want alright? You wanna open up a gym for you and the other health freaks of this world then do it. You wanna take pictures of dicks all day that’s what you should do. You find what you like and you figure out a way to make a living out of it. It was hard as fuck for me, but seeing as how I’m basically a guiding angel in your life I might able to help you out.”

Ian felt lucky that Mickey couldn’t see his face at that moment. He knew he was sporting one of those faces that made Mickey uncomfortable, jumpy. It was one of those faces that said, “wow I’m falling even harder for you than I was ten seconds ago.” He kept expecting there to be this moment where his love for Mickey leveled out, this moment where his love reached a point where it could no longer grow. Instead it felt like his heart was forever expanding, widening to fit the world wind of emotions that Mickey Milkovich made him feel. He was starting to feel like he’d been ruined for anyone else, like he’d never want anything or anyone the way that he wanted Mickey.

“Thanks Mick.” He whispered holding him a little tighter. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I think I’ve filled my quota of unnecessarily cute ass coupley shit for a month don’t you can we get out of here now?”

“Sure, my balls are starting to get pruned I think. You first.”

Mickey laughed around his cigarette struggling to get up and out of the tub. Ian just watched on a smirk dancing on his lips as his boyfriend’s pale ass came into view. He reached to smack it sending bubbles all over the place and leaving Mickey to complain about personal space all the way into their bedroom. Their bedroom. Wow that was some cute shit.

“If you wanna make it really dirty and rough tonight to rid yourself of the remembrance of taking a bubble bath with your boyfriend I’m still waiting for to choke me a little in bed.” Ian smirked wrapping a towel around his waist.

Mickey looked at him with raised eyebrows. “The fuck am I gonna do with your crazy ass?”

He stepped closer to Mickey and took his hand to place it around his throat forcing the other man to squeeze slightly.

“See just like that. Don’t let me die or anything though.” He chuckled.

“Jesus Christ I’m living with a fucking satyriasis that wants to be choked while having sex. If only daddy could see me now.”

Ian grinned. “I know right? Lucky you.”

Mickey laughed shoving Ian jokingly which resulted in Ian shoving back and the two quickly began to tussle like children in nothing but towels on the bed that they would share indefinitely. Neither of them was sure when the grabs stopped being playful and turned hungry. When the hands traveled lower and lower gripping the meat of thighs, yanking each other closer. Mickey was on top right where Ian wanted him grinding their hips jaggedly together. The two couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. Ever.

“Shit, shit right there Mick.” Ian groaned grabbing mercilessly at Mickey’s ass.

Mickey bit into the pale skin of the body beneath him trying to gain some semblance of control over the situation. It was always useless with Ian, but he wasn’t quite ready to quit trying. His hips were moving fluidly trying desperately to find that spot that could send him over the edge. And when he found it, it was magic. For the both of them.

“Oh god.” He moaned throwing his head back in pleasure.

His fingers slipped down to Ian’s back trying to get a grip so he could ram himself down harder. The heat hanging heavy and stagnate in the room was almost unbearable but they kept going, kept rocking their hips. Ian thrust up hitting something within Mickey that he was sure could kill him one of these days and he lost all control, all sense of right and wrong, of what a man should and should not do in bed.

“Oh you motherfucker don’t stop!”

He pressed their bodies together so that their chests touched and there was nothing to do but grind their hips harder and harder together. Mickey ran his fingers throw the wet mop of Ian’s hair tugging relentlessly in frustration. It just wasn’t supposed to feel that good.

“You gonna cum for me? Shit Mickey it’s so tight.”

“Fuck me, oh shit just fuck me.”

Fingers scratched desperately at backs as they collided together again and again edging each other closer to the edge. It was hot and sweaty and so fucking good. Their bodies lost all sense of rhythm once their orgasms hit, crashing down on them full force. They cried out to each other collapsing on the bed in a ruin of tangled jello-like legs and sweat. It didn’t have to be romantic and perfect with the two of them. In fact they craved the not perfect aspects of life, but at the end of the night when it was just the two of them together it was as perfect as it was ever gonna get. And that was good enough for the both of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's starting to occur to me that Ian and Mickey fuck like every chapter in this story. I hope that's okay and that the smut isn't too terrible? Feel free to let me know of course.   
> or just come say hi!  
> zankiefanatic.tumblr.com


	11. The South Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could feel the anger, the pain bubbling up to the surface. Everything that he’d worked so hard to push down, to forget. Late nights, strange old men pushing tabs of this and that onto his tongue. The stale taste rotting in his mouth the night after. Not remembering and wanting to remember, but being so scared of what lie in those hidden depths. Black outs and cold sweats, stomach rolling with hunger, but he just couldn’t physically bring himself to get out of bed. She didn’t get it. And the worst part was that she wouldn’t even try. She wanted him to forgive and forget and he couldn’t this time. Ian was through feeling like he was at fault because his head didn’t work like theirs. Because their lives were too hectic to give a shit about him.

****

Mickey hated flying. Granted Mickey hated lots of things, but he _really_ hated to fly. The one thing he wanted was to spend his Saturday sleeping and painting not waking up at the crack of fucking dawn to get on a plane and go back to South Side. He’d swore he’d never got back, but this sexy redhead came into his life and changed that instantly. As if that wasn’t bad enough he was gonna be surrounded by a gaggle of Gallaghers for the duration of his weekend. Mickey was pretty sure his karma was all the way fucked up to have to endure this cruel amount of punishment.

“You look really sexy in your airport attire.” Ian grinned nuzzling his head into Mickey’s neck.

“These sweatpants are dirty and there is your jacket dumbass.”

Mickey was even grumpier than usual, but Ian didn’t mind. He could tell by his viscous grip on the armrest that he was nervous and he made it his mission to help him relax.

“I’m a sucker for the casual look.” He insisted teeth grazing skin.

“Jesus Gallagher could you keep in your pants please? I’m trying not to die here.”

“And I’m trying to help you relax Scrooge. We could join the mile high club if you want.”

“You are not bending me over a fucking sink a million miles above the ground.”

Ian whimpered. “You’re no fun.”

“You’ll survive . . . Now do that think with your tongue that like. On my neck though.”

“You are suck a pushy bottom Mickey Milkovich.” He chuckled leaning down to capture the skin with his lips.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

South side was still south side and Mickey didn’t know if that was a relief or not. The anxiety from the plane ride quickly transferred into anxiety of being in Chicago. It was no longer home despite years of clinging to some false sense of pride in the piece of shit town. He’d finally gotten out, and to go back just seemed wrong. It brought back way too many memories that had been carefully stored away deep in the dark contents of his mind. They passed grocery stores that he had stolen from simply for something to do, corners where he’d beaten the shit out of people for no good reason. It was like looking back at a past life. That wasn’t who he was anymore.

Ian on the other hand felt an odd sense of calmness settle over him the closer they got to the Gallagher home. Despite the way things had been left he didn’t hate his family. His siblings meant the world to him, they really did. And there was always a sense of guilt within him for leaving without a word. He wanted to fix things, but he also didn’t want to just give in to whatever Fiona wanted. He’d done that his whole life and thanks to Mickey he was finally starting to see just how wrong that was. It made him immensely grateful that Mickey had agreed to go with him despite his obvious distain for the place they’d once called home. Without him he wasn’t so sure he could handle the onslaught of Lip and Fi ganging up on him.

They climbed from the car taking their bags with them. Mickey reached out for Ian’s hand mumbling something about not wanting Ian to pass out on him as their fingers intertwined. Mickey was too close to home, too close to homophobic pieces of shit that would hurt Ian if given the chance and that had him breathing a little harder. They were both thankful for the touch.

“I’m hereeee!” Ian called opening the door that remained unlock.

“IAN!!!!”

Mickey’s hand was knocked out of his as Debbie, Carl, and Liam rushed to hug him. He hugged them tightly ruffling hair and squeezing arms.

“We saw your ad for that new French cologne! All the girls in my class have a crush one you. I haven’t told them yet that you prefer a pole where the hole is. Would hate for you to lose fans even if they are superficial bitches.”

“Oh Debbie I missed you.” He chuckled.

“You came.”

He turned to see Fiona leaning against the entry way in her very Fiona like fashion with crossed arms and a worried expression upon her face. They hadn’t spoken since he made her cry in New York and the tension quickly filled the air. She wore a tank top and jeans shorts already itching for summer.

“Yea, I did.”

She paused seeming to look him over to make sure he was in one piece like she did when he was a kid. Ian felt her eyes travel behind him and knew they rested on Mickey. When she seemed satisfied with what she saw, her body relaxed minimally.

“Do I get a hug or what?”

He bit back a smirk crossing the room quickly to hug his sister.

“I missed you so much.” She sighed into his chest.

“Me too Fi.”

She smiled up at him before slapping him squarely on the chest.

“You’re still on my shit list.”

“Aren’t I always?”

It took him a second to remember where he was….

“Oh you guys know Mickey!” Ian smiled turning back toward his boyfriend.

Mickey had never looked so awkward in all the time he’d known him. The gay club ordeal might have been a step up. He bit at his lip with one raised eyebrow looking too cute to ever be scary. Fiona looked between him and Ian noticing the heart eyes for him. They seemed to be even stronger than what she’d seen in New York. More real, somehow. Her little brother was in love and it was so obvious on his face that it felt personal, like she was intruding on something private by staring too long.

“Did you bring us something?” Carl smirked.

“Don’t listen to him he’s eaten one too many tubes of glue in his life time.”

Carl slapped at Debbie onto be punched back. Ian laughed moving to save him from the two bickering children.

“Alright enough monopolizing my boyfriend. Lip here yet?”

Fiona giggled at the ‘b’ word shaking her head. “Said he’d get here by dinner time.”

“Good, we’re taking his room.” He smirked towing Mickey toward the stairs.

“We’re a lot to get used to.” Ian shrugged once they were safely alone in their room.

“’Snot so bad. They’re better than my family by a long shot.”

“And the chances of me meeting this family?”

“Slim to never gonna fucking happen.” Mickey snapped irritably.

“Mkay.” He mumbled playing idly with Mickey’s knuckles.

Mickey watched Ian tracing his tattoos with a pinky absentmindedly, and found that is actually calmed him down. He knew they weren’t far from his old neighborhood and the thought of Ian in his old house, or even being within a fifty mile radius of his dad set his teeth on edge. They were sat on Lip’s old bed Ian curled up comfortably on the mattress as if to tell him he had nothing to be afraid of here.

“I don’t want you near him ever okay? You’ve met the family that matters, not everyone’s lucky enough to have something like this.”

There were others; Mandy had told Ian about the older brothers that were dumb as dog shit. But he knew Mickey; he knew that his dad was the only weak spot in his armor. Except for him. Maybe he was a weakness too. Maybe he was the good kind though, the kind that actually made him stronger when given the chance.

“He hurt you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Mickey nodded throwing the whole thing off with a shrug. “Child abuse’s no biggie in this shit hole.”

“It is to me. Being Frank’s punching bag sucked. You don’t have to protect yourself all time you know. I could . . . I’m like here for you.” He mumbled.

Mickey took the hand that wasn’t being grasped by Ian and ran it tentatively through the strands of red hair.

“I know. Old habits die hard though.”

Ian nodded snuggling closer to his boyfriend and closing his eyes. “Well if you ever wanna send that piece of shit a sex tape you just let me know. We’ll totally come up with some kinky shit.”

Mickey laughed. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Oh Gallagher.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Ian woke up to Fiona nudging him softly. His body was curled perfectly around Mickey’s body and he felt pretty content with never leaning that position ever again.

“Is it time for dinner?” He yawned.

She shook her head. “Not quite yet. Still waiting on Lip, just wanted to talk for a minute.”

Ian groaned. “Can we do that later? I don’t feel like arguing on an empty stomach.”

“Then don’t argue with me?”

“I have to argue with you; you’re wrong.”

“He tell you that?” She asked pointing her head in Mickey’s direction.

“He has a name Fi. It’s Mickey? And he didn’t have to tell me anything, he just showed me that it’s okay to stick up for what I believe in.”

Fiona sighed. “Please? I wanna talk Ian come on.”

He looked down at Mickey’s sleeping figure wishing desperately that he’d wake up so he didn’t have to go through it alone. Instead he climbed out of bed and followed Fiona downstairs trying to remember that he didn’t have to feel scared of her. There was nothing to be scared of.

They moved to the kitchen were everything was quiet, the kids all out of the house for once. Fiona moved to the stove to make tea or coffee or something Ian wouldn’t end up drinking. He took a seat picking at the sleeves of his jacket, and waiting for his sister’s assault. It never took long with her.

 

“Uh . . . how’s school?” the attempt at small talk was pitiful even to Fiona.

“Really? Can’t we just get on with it?”

“Fair enough. So you seem to think that Lip and I weren’t  . . .  there for you?”

He stared at her eyebrows raised. “I don’t think anything. I know that we stopped talking by the time I was twelve. I don’t blame you for that; it was me and my choice. I know that JimmySteve entered the picture and you had other shit to deal with. I know that you just trusted that Lip and I were going to be okay, but I wasn’t and I know that you knew that. And I also knew that through Gallagher tradition you did jack shit about it.”

“Ian that’s not fair. You know I was always there for you.”

“Yea to make sure I was fed and that we had a roof over our head. And I appreciate that Fi, I do, but let’s not try and pretend you knew half the shit going on in my life.”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me! I tried Ian, all the time and you just blew me off you know that. What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know maybe try a little fucking harder?! You couldn’t take a minute out of your busy schedule of fucking car thieves and coked out boyfriend’s brothers to see I wasn’t getting out of bed for days at a fucking time? Or that the other ninety-five percent of the time that I wasn’t even here?!” He roared.

“ALL I DID WAS TRUST YOU!”

“YEA WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!”

He could feel the anger, the pain bubbling up to the surface. Everything that he’d worked so hard to push down, to forget. Late nights, strange old men pushing tabs of this and that onto his tongue. The stale taste rotting in his mouth the night after. Not remembering and wanting to remember, but being so scared of what lie in those hidden depths. Black outs and cold sweats, stomach rolling with hunger, but he just couldn’t physically bring himself to get out of bed. She didn’t get it. And the worst part was that she wouldn’t even try. She wanted him to forgive and forget and he couldn’t this time. Ian was through feeling like he was at fault because his head didn’t work like theirs. Because their lives were too hectic to give a shit about him.

He managed to storm away at the most perfect time to make things awkward. Lip was standing at the doorway, Mickey at the stairs all having heard the screaming match. He didn’t know what to say and the anger was burning his eyes in a familiar way. Refusing to cry in front of his brother and his boyfriend, he rushed for the safety of upstairs leaving everything else behind.

“What the fuck Fi!” Lip yelled dropping his bag to the ground.

Mickey took that at his cue to go check on his Gallagher. He’d woken up to the sounds of yelling and it kind of made him smile. The idea of Ian holding his own, standing up to the people he’d been repressed by for so long was everything he’d been waiting for. The look in his eye before he disappeared upstairs was enough to cause a pain of his own. Ian didn’t cry often, thankfully, so if he was going to let the tears go, Mickey figured he might as well be there for it.

“Hey it’s me man . . . Can I come in?” He murmured first hesitant on the door.

He heard the sniffles and the movement before the door creaked open slowly.

Ian sighed looking exhausted. “Sorry. I’m okay now, promise.”

Mickey sized him up trying to figure out a way to make that statement actually true.

“Come on I wanna show you something.”

“What about dinner?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You really wanna go eat with them after that fucking fiasco? Come on, don’t make me beg Gallagher.”

A small grin worked itself onto Ian’s face in response. “But Mick I like it when you beg.”

They knocked hips and slipped downstairs, disappearing through the door before Lip and Fiona could even try to stop them.

“You know I only lived like ten minutes from here right?” Mickey asked handing Ian his cigarette. “I think I beat the shit out of some kid for one of your brother’s papers once.”

Ian laughed. “Oh yea I guess you would’ve been a year or two above me huh?”

“Never passed freshman year though. Probably dropped out before we could’ve met.”

“I knew Mandy’s name. Never met her though.” Ian shrugged. “It’s kind of crazy if you think about it. Being so close for years, yet never actually meeting until moving to a completely different state.”

They stopped at some liquor store so Mickey could buy a bottle of whiskey before staking off towards the abandoned building. It was the closest thing Mickey had ever had to a safe place growing up; somewhere to go after his dad finished pounding on him, to shoot his guns and forget about the shitty world surrounding him on all sides. Taking Ian there was kind of huge for him, huger than he realized until they were actually there. He found himself checking out of the corner of his eye to gauge the other man’s reaction. Would he hate it? Would he think it was stupid to come to some stripped down random ass roof top? Ian just sat down on the edge of the building with his legs dangling limply over the edge. Mickey took a deep breath before taking the seat next to him and offering up the booze.

“I don’t remember most of it,” He offered slowly. “It was just . . . they would give me things, party favors. It helped you know? They were happy when I did what they asked, and I think I just needed someone to be happy with me. I felt happy. Or numb. I guess numb makes more sense. I was young, so fucking stupid. Wanted to feel anything that wasn’t the disappointment I felt at home. She doesn’t know. Lip doesn’t either. He figured out the stuff with Ned, but I never told him anything else.”

“They don’t understand.” Mickey concluded around another cigarette. “That doesn’t mean you should have to suffer because of it.”

Ian seemed to agree knocking the bottle back to pour a hellish brown liquid down his throat.

He winced. “What was it like? Being Terry Milkovich’s son?”

“It wasn’t so bad . . . okay it fucking sucked.” Mickey smirked at Ian’s wide eyes. “We got through it. Being gay definitely wasn’t a fucking option that’s for sure. I remember the first time I saw him kick the shit out of two dudes just for holding hands in the street. You can imagine the horror the first time I realized I liked it up the ass. The whole internalized homophobia shit probably fucked me up for life. I’ve never been that scared or, or weak before. Before that he was my dad and there was a level of respect because we’re Milkovichs and we stand together because no one else gives a shit. But the look that he gave me . . . it was like I wasn’t even human, like I disgusted him or something. So I try to never feel like that again. Sorry if that makes it tougher on us, cause it obviously does.”

He kicked his legs out uncomfortable with being so open with someone even if it was Ian.

“Well shit . . . you win.” Ian sighed handing him the bottle.

Mickey chuckled taking a swig out of the whiskey.

“Yep we’re just too fucked up products of south side struggling to deal with bullshit that’s not even our faults. We’re scarred for life man.”

“Who else is gonna put up with us Mick? I’m stuck with your ass forever.” Ian grinned taking his boyfriend’s cigarette.

Mickey shrugged. “It’s a great ass to be stuck with. Or so they tell me anyway.”

“It’s not so bad. Very plump.”

He wrapped his arm around Mickey giving him a gentle squeeze.

“You calling my ass fat Gallagher?”

“In the words of the great and righteous Nicki Minaj, let’s just say big dicks follow.”

Mickey just looked on incredulously as his moronic boyfriend cackled like a fucking chicken at his own goddamn joke. Jesus.

“You’re officially too gay. And annoying.”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

The front door to the Gallagher house cracked open as Mickey fought to pull a huge pile of Ian through the door. It was the biggest struggle ever yanking him back to the house. Ian had decided to sing Nicki Minaj’s Anaconda at the top of his lungs all the way home, because one Nicki Minaj reference just wasn’t enough for him apparently. He had made his way to the hook again by the time they hustled through the door.

“MY ANACONDA DON’T WANT NONE UNLESS YOU GOT MICK’S BUNS HUN!”

“I can’t believe I’m actually in love with you.” Mickey mumbled to himself.

“Ian?”

Everyone was sitting at the dinner table watching Mickey struggle with Gallagher’s weight and doing fuck all to help him.

“Kid can’t handle liquor to save his life.” He grunted dumping a gigging Ian onto the couch.

“Come lay with me Mick. I want you to paint me after sex, you never did that.” Ian whined sloppily.

“Fuck me you’re annoying. Shhh.”

That was about as sympathetic as Mickey Milkovich got.

“What the fuck’d you do to him?!” Lip snapped coming into the living room with a blind fury.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Bought myself a bottle of whiskey and made the mistake of sharing it with this idiot. Jackass barely had a cup’s worth.”

“He’s on meds you fucking idiot he’s not allowed to drink!”

Lip hovered over Ian’s body checking him for any other damage like he was on the cusp of death instead of a terrible hangover. Mickey would’ve smirked his ass off if lip wasn’t such dickhead. He didn’t like the insinuation that he’d ever do something that could hurt Ian, that everything he did nowadays wasn’t to better him in some way or another. Mickey didn’t have a lot of people in his life, but the ones that he did he held close and he loved fiercely so fuck Lip Gallagher for thinking anything different.

He found himself clenching his fists and taking deep breaths to calm himself. Ian, even in his drunken state, always knew when to come to his rescue.

“Noooooo. Mickey protects me. H—he takes care of me Phillippppp. Mickey doesn’t hurt me, he loves me. Sometimes he hurts me in bed, but I like it. He won’t choke me though no matter how many times I ask. Don’t tell my family I said that.”

Well . . . so much for coming to his rescue.

Mickey groaned. “Jesus fuck Ian shut the fuck up. Look he takes his meds at six am and six pm. So the alcohol didn’t mess with his day meds or his night meds. I always make sure he’s okay, so why don’t you try knowing a fucking thing about him before you jump down my throat _Phillip_.”

If there was anything left in the world that could bring Ian back to reality it was the idea of an angry Mickey and an angry Lip face to face. That was one fight he was perfectly fine avoiding.

“Hey don’t fight.” Ian mumbled from the couch.

He moved sluggishly and burped loudly, but was eventually able to lift himself off the couch nearly tripping in his attempt to get between Mickey and Lip.

“Yea, okay tough guy.” Mickey said his voice noticeably softer. “You wanna try and sober up or do I have to drag your ass upstairs.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck to support his weight and Jesus the fucker was heavy. He was like a gigantic ass dog that was convinced it was still a puppy, and mickey kind of loved his gigantic ass puppy.

“Can we do it upstairs?”

Mickey scoffed. “First of all you are not some virgin freshman, we don’t ‘do it’ ever. And second of all no you’re wasted and I refuse to get vomited on during sex.”

“Finnnnnne party pooper. Feed me then.”

The rest of the family just watched on confused by the altercation between the two. Well really it was just Lip and Fiona. Carl was Carl and serious issues weren’t so much his forte, Debbie only got involved when need be so she was pretty content with letting the adults handle that one, and Liam was just happy to be alive. Lip and Fiona were entering new territory though. They’d never seen Ian and Mickey treat each other in any way that wasn’t hostile. Relationship Ian was different. Relationship Mickey was _definitely_ different, thought they knew more of his reputation than who he actually as a person.

The weirdest part was that they’d never seen anyone take care of Ian that wasn’t them. Lip was usually the one to carry Ian home when he got too sloppy. Fiona was the one who sobered him up, brought him pain meds. Now there was this random dude in their house taking over their jobs and Ian was letting him. It hurt a little.

“Thanks babe.” Ian smirked as a plate was set in front of him.

“You’re not nearly drunk enough to get away with that asshole.” He grumbled settling a glass in front of him.

“Is this beer?”

Mickey pulled an egg out of nowhere taping it on the rim and letting the egg plop deep into the glass with a couple squirts of hot sauce.

“Drink up princess. I ain’t holding your hair back while you puke at six in the morning. This’ll help.”

“You take such good care of me Mick.” The redhead smiled eagerly.

Mickey rolled his eyes in response. “You gonna be okay while I shower? I fell into dirt like five times lugging your ass back here.”

“Well I lived here for seventeen years of my life so . . .  yea I think I can manage.”

He was met with a middle finger before Mickey disappeared up the stairs leaving him with the disgusting concoction before him. He wasn’t quite sure if it made him feel sober because it tasted so bad or if it actually had some kind of magical affect to it. Not too long after Mickey left Fi and Lip came back into the kitchen and it felt as though the nausea quickly returned.

“Debs take Liam upstairs would you?” She asked. “Carl too.”

Debbie nodded softly lifting Liam out of his high chair and leaving the adults alone. Ian could feel their eyes on him as he ate slowly edging away from the drunken mess he’d been when they first arrived home. He could feel his chest tighten in response to their presence and he wondered when in the hell he started being afraid of his brother and sister.

“Ian I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to yell I just…. I wanna understand you know? There’s so much you never told me and it shouldn’t be like that. You should feel like you can tell me anything and instead I feel like I barely know who you are.” Fiona apologized.

Lip nodded in agreement. “We just don’t like being out of the loop in your life man. Mickey Milkovich knows more about my own brother than I do. Whatever it is, we can handle it. You can tell me. You can trust us.”

Ian quickly downed the rest of his beer thinking may he’d need the buzz to get through this conversation. It’s not that he was ashamed of what he’d been through. He’d had enough therapy to feel damned proud of even getting out of bed every now and then when times got rough. Ian just knew that it was easier to say you wanted to understand, to insist you could handle something until it was actually put in front of you to deal with. He didn’t know what his sibling’s reactions would be and it terrified him to even think about.

“I like older guys.” He eventually blurted out. “I mean that kind of where it started. First it was Kash when I was . . . fifteen? Sixteen maybe.”

“KASH?! Like married with two kids Kash? Your boss Kash?” Fiona quickly interrupted. “That disgusting fucking prick!”

Lip nudged her roughly before she apologized and allowed him to go on. Ian wondered how in the hell she was gonna deal with everything else if that was the info that really did it for her.

“There were some others. Monica took me to my first gay club after Frank beat the shit out of me. That’s where I met Ned, JimmySteve’s dad. He took care of me. At least that’s what he called it. He bought me stuff, took me to expensive dinners. We obviously weren’t exclusive though due to the whole him having a wife and a family thing. I started working at the uh fairy tale up in Boystown? As a dancer. Dr. Wonder and I think that’s where my manic episode started. They said I was a favorite though. Guys would come and specifically request to see me. The money was a lot better than the Kash N’ Grab. Plus it felt good to feel… wanted, needed? You had whoever you were fucking at the time. Lip had Amanda. Debbie even had a boyfriend at that point, and she’ll always have Carl because they’re closer in age and Liam’s just Liam. I kind of fell to way side. And I just wanted to feel **_something._** Anything. Like I mattered to someone. Sometimes the guys wanted more. They’d give me party favors and money and I’d do stuff for them. I’d touch them and dance for them and they’d take me to hotel rooms for privacy. That parts a little hazy if I’m being honest. They tried to treat me for post-traumatic stress disorder in the nut house, but I’m sure you guys already heard about that. Anyway I think that might have had something to do with it. Mickey’s the first person I’ve been intimate with since that doesn’t make my skin crawl but uh . . . I don’t have aids or an STD though so that’s a plus.”

He looked up with a grin only to be met with the horror struck expression on their faces. He realized he’d entered territory that even Lip didn’t know about. Hell Mickey didn’t even know the last part. Not the STD part cause that was totally information he found important to share.

Ian sighed. “I wasn’t happy here you guys. Sometimes I’d wake up and my entire body felt heavy. I felt insignificant and disposable. I’d just lie there in bed and no one ever came to check on me or ask if I was alive. And Frank. Frank just made me feel like shit. All the time. And the worst part was that you guys watched. I mean we’re not some dramatic tv show I get it but like, he hit me. Repeatedly. And you never did anything about it. We kicked him out only to let him pass out on the floor again the next day. When he found out I was bipolar he called me a fag. A disgrace to mankind. He said that I was dirty and inhuman and a disease just like Monica. Is it really a question why I didn’t stay?”

It was the most talking he’d done in one period of time in front of them probably ever. But the more he unraveled to them the more he let go, the more he confronted his fears and it felt surprisingly good.

“New York. Mandy. Mickey.” And he smiles at the sound of his name alone, hot and sweet on his tongue. “they’re good for me. I’m happy. I—I’m healthy and you just kind of have to trust me on that. I’m okay now, I promise.”

They look at him for a long time after he’d finished. It’s a lot to take in and he gets it. Ian never expected the feeling that came after he was done though. He feels weightless, like the burden that’s plagued his lungs for so long had finally relented its thick smoke. It feels like he might just be able to leave it behind him for good. Ian’s not the type to hold grudges. And with Fiona crying and Lip looking like he’s close to losing it as well he can’t hold onto the hate. It doesn’t make him regret telling them though. They needed to hear it. Fiona throws herself on him squeezing hard enough to hurt. It only takes Lip a second to join in on the hug, and Ian’s never felt so close to them. They’re Gallaghers and they stand together, not because no one else gives a shit like the Milkovichs, but because no one else could ever give more of a shit than family.

“Gallagher your brother’s a fucking psychopath you know that?!” Mickey grunted tumbling down the stairs. “Asking me about where we put out gay wieners at. I bet you he kills cats and bathes in the blood or some sick shit.”

Mickey made his way to the kitchen to see the Gallagher’s hugging and blubbering everywhere.

He groaned. “You’re some of those sentimental fuckers aren’t you?”

They have no choice but to burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of the interruption. Ian quickly detangled himself from their grip before moving to throw his body around Mickey.

“We’re done now. Let’s go to bed Mick.” He murmured kissing Mickey’s temple.

Mickey squirmed, cheeks blazing automatically. “Yea, okay.”

Lip and Fiona watch their brother walk off with his arms full of Mickey. And it hits harder than it ever had before.

“Our brother’s in love with a Milkovich.” Fiona whispered.

“It’s not just that . . . a Milkovich is in love with our brother.”

“Woah.” They breathe in unison.

Lip remembers a very pressing matter at that moment.

“Hey no fucking on my bed!!!” He yelled after the pair.

“NO PROMISES!”

 

 

 

 

 

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally trying to stick to a schedule for this story and get bored so I'm just like I'm gonna go post and maybe my people will read it and then they'll comment and we can like talk about my story and boost my ego cuz lord knows i need it. anyway i hope you liked it and i hope you comment me shit we become like the best of friends tbh cause i have....nothing else to do with my life xD thanks for reading!


	12. The High Before The Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His brain cycled through it all constantly moving, working, and before he knew it they were home. They never even got to picking out a movie before Ian was on him pulling his body closer and going in for the kill. Mickey smiled because it was Ian and he was kind of in love and kind of adored this kid. And when things are good they’re fucking good. So that’s all that they focus on that night. The good. And how it feels when they’re moving together. Thinking of anything else would only make shit more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was gonna post this when i hit 7k but i'm sick af and then i got a super sweet message on tumblr from imickeyxian about the story and it genuinely made my entire day cause everything was so fucked up before. I know the comments and messages seem like they mean nothing but they really do make me so happy so i appreciate all the kind words This chapter ended up being 11,000 words so i split it in two and this part one. I really hope you enjoy!

“Gallagher move your ass! I’m not spending another day in this shit hole of a town! No offense.” He tacked onto the end for Fiona’s benefit.

“None taken.” She shrugged.

“Miiiiiiiiick! I can’t find my pills come help me!”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Mickey muttered thumping up the stairs for the umpteenth time that day.

Ian was sitting on the toilet waiting for him when he got there, a black box sitting suspiciously on his lap. Cause that didn’t just scream, “shit’s about to get weird as fuck”, at all.

“Hey could you close the door a second?”

“The fuck is that?” Mick asked ignoring his request.

“Close the door and I’ll show you. Lock it too.”

Mickey’s curiosity got the better of him, so he did what he was told before leaning against the door with raised eyebrows.

“I got you something.” Ian murmured shyly running the rough pads of his fingertips smoothly over the box.

“Okay . . .  you gonna give it to me or you just gonna sit there with that smug fucking look on your face?”

He just grinned wickedly handing over the box.

“I want you to wait until we take off on the plane to use it.”

Mickey lifted the lid wondering just what in the hell Gallagher was so giddy about.

“No . . . Ian, Ian don’t fucking look at me like that. No!”

*                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“Get up. Go to the bathroom. Text me when you’re done.” He commanded lethally in Mickey’s ear.

Mickey bit his lip roughly wondering just how far Ian was willing to take this whole thing. Speaking of taking things….

He stood up hesitantly taking the bag he’d been given with him. It was times like that, that he hated the smug ginger bastard. The problem was hating Gallagher did really interesting things for his love life, and he most certainly didn’t hate that. And that is how, ladies and gentlemen, Mickey Milkovich ended up in the bathroom of an airplane somewhere between Illinois and Indiana with a butt plug shoved up his ass. Damn Gallagher. Damn him all to hell.

It was big and sleek, close to Ian’s size but still not enough. After a weekend at the Gallaghers with next to no sex though, it was more than enough. It made him feel full, the silicon head just barely touching the bundle of nerves that Ian would’ve rammed into with one stroke. But there was something about the idea of it. Of sitting there surrounded by all of these people asleep with no idea of what was going on. It was kinda hot.

Mickey: _I’m done you jackass_

Ian: _Yea? And how’s it feel Mick?_

Mickey: _Why you gonna get off in front of all those people? Come on man let me come sit down I’m getting fucking motion sickness over here._

Ian: _Mkay . . . come to me Mickey ;)_

Mickey just rolled his eyes stalking off back to his seat glad to be done with it.

“Comfy?” Ian asked casually keeping his eyes away from Mickey as he took a sip of his drink.

“You know what fucki—oh shit.”

There it was. A pulse vibrating hot and heavy within him. It rocked his body to his very core. An involuntary groan came bubbling to the surface of his lips as he rutted his hips backward struggling to get relief.

“Ian.” He gasped trying to keep his cool. “Ian turn it off. Now.”

Blue eyes met green ones and Mickey was sure he’d cum any second off the feeling alone. It was torture.  A punishment for god knows what that was sure to be the end of him. And Ian just sat there peering at him curiously like he was a fucking science experiment instead of Ian’s boyfriend sitting there with a pulsating asshole. He was staring at him with an immeasurable excitement in his eyes too. They both knew Ian liked to be in control, but neither knew the extent to which it could go. Lord knows they were about to find out.

Ian leaned forward suddenly pressing his lips to Mickey’s ear as he pressed another button and the intensity grew.

“You’re gonna sit here until you cum for me like a good boy and then I’m gonna take you into that bathroom and fuck you so good you’ll be crawling back to your seat.”

Mickey’s blood was pushing quickly through his veins and his throat was too dry to swallow. It was too much. Everyone around them was sleeping like normal fucking human beings and here he was getting off on a fucking remote control butt plug torture machine. What the entire fuck? He bit down on his fist rutting his hips up and down spastically. The pressure in the back was extraordinary and the lack of pressure in the front was soul crushing. He almost couldn’t control himself, but it didn’t matter because Gallagher had asked him to do something and he wasn’t about to disobey him.

He looked around hesitantly earning a sharp pull on his jaw form Ian.

“Don’t look at them look at me.” He whispered severely running his fingers through black hair and pressing another button.

The vibrations become jagged and thick and wonderful causing Mickey to throb painfully in his jeans.

“You wanna be touched?” Ian cooed. “You’re not worthy of being touched are you Mickey? Are you?”

“N—No.” He grumbled hips moving in an unsteady rhythm. “Please Ian I need it.”

“Show me you can be good. Show me and I’ll reward you. Just be a good boy for me, be my good boy Mickey.”

Then he switched it to the last setting and watched on as Mickey came completely undone in his seat. The assault on his asshole was ruthless. He didn’t have a chance in hell.

“Fuck—Fuck Ian.” He barked spilling into his jeans.

He collapsed back in his seat just in time for a flight attendant to come and check on them for the final time that night.

“Everything okay over here?” She smiled taking in a sweaty, spent Mickey.

Ian quickly smiled politely pressing the off button on his remote. “My boyfriend doesn’t fly so well. I‘m just gonna help him to the bathroom. We’re fine thanks.”

“Aw well feel better sir, and please let us know if you need anything.”

She’d barely made it half away to the cock pit before Ian was dragging Mickey to the back of the plane.

“Ah Mickey you were such a good boy back there.” Ian moaned wetly in Mickey’s ear rutting their hips together.

Mickey threw his head back sick and tired of being so goddamn quiet. Ian had never been so dominate towards him before, and he fucking liked it. He might’ve even loved it. Fingers tugged at denim and metal moving jeans and belts out of the way with desperate moves. It remained clear that Ian was in control, that Ian said what did and didn’t go in the tiny ass bathroom at the back of the plane that was practically fogging up from the heat of their bodies. Those long pale fingers threaded themselves into Mickey’s hair shoving him roughly down to his knees. Ian had never not asked before, and with the response his dick had Mickey was pretty sure he never wanted him to ask again.

“Oh fuck Mickey that feels amazing.” He grunted.

His hands never left Mickey’s head directing him in every bob of his neck. He hallowed his cheeks letting spit trail along the length of Gallagher’s dick a moan rocking his body. Ian stared down at him pupils completely blown to shit, and his dick well on the way. Mickey’s mouth could do amazing things when it wasn’t talking all the time. His head was forced slowly down to the base as Ian’s grunts and groans filled his ears. He could feel the familiar tightening in his balls and he refused to cum again without a legitimate dick in him. The butt plug wasn’t fucking cutting it.

He pulled his lips, swollen and puffy off his boyfriend’s cock, the wet plop of his mouth radiating off the walls.

“Fuck me already.” He gasped.

The air hit Ian’s hard-on and it was almost painful how badly he wanted to be inside of Mickey, but he had a role to play and he wasn’t about to break that role.

“Did I tell you you could stop sucking?” He asked biting his lip at the sight of saliva pooling on Mickey’s chin.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “No.”

“You were being so good for me before. I don’t wanna hurt you Mickey.” He sighed. “Get up.”

Mickey found himself getting a little nervous as he followed the instructions. But above all else was the excitement, the wonderful unknown of what Ian would do to him. All of a sudden Ian grabbed him shoving his back into the edge of the sink for leverage and ripping at his underwear. It was all that he wanted, to be pounded mercilessly and with no clear sign when it would ever stop. Gallagher could fuck like no other and it resulted in Mickey clinging on for dear life. His legs clung desperately to Ian’s hips as they fucked each other cruelly raking claws into flesh just to hear the other scream. They humped and crashed and slammed their hips together so hard Mickey was struggling to breathe. It burned so good. He couldn’t even begin to tell Gallagher to stop. He wanted him to use him, abuse him in the same way he was doing to him. Fucking had never been better.

“Harder. Harder you piece of shit—FUCK! Fuck Ian yes!”

He felt like he was on the verge of sobbing which wasn’t sexy to anyone, but there was no holding back the things that he felt. Ian kept moving his hips, loud wet pants huffing onto Mickey’s skin as he marked him as his. He had something no toy would ever be able to accomplish. This knowledge of Mickey’s body. It’s quirks and it’s fetishes and it’s pressure points that just set off floods of passion. When they fucked it was like he worked to destroy him smashing his hips forward and biting his body roughly. It wasn’t tender or sweet. It was aggressive it was . . . destructive in the most satisfying way either of them could ever imagine.

“I’m gonna cum in you and you’re gonna keep it in that fucking hole until we get home you understand me?” He grunted trying to control his thrusts.

Mickey was too far gone to form a coherent thought let alone speak, so he just let himself be pressed into the sink, despite swearing it would never happen as his boyfriend shot his load, hot and sticky up his ass before replacing the plug that would hold it all in for later. And he couldn’t help but think that maybe flying didn’t have to be so bad after all.

 

*                                                                                     *                                                                             *

 

“What the fuck happened to you? Did lip bite you?!”Mandy gasped looking her brother over.

Mickey looked down confused as to what the hell she was talking to. There it was just as clear as day though, the faint tracings of an impression left sunken into his flesh. It almost seemed wrong, disrespectful even to suggest that something so incredible could come from that fucktard. It was Ian’s mark on him, and Lip deserved no part in that.

“Like fuck he did,” Mickey chuckled rubbing the scar with a smirk.

It didn’t take much for Mandy to piece two and two together. I mean the dumbass had enough hickeys to start a collection.

“Does this have something to do with the fact that you limped all the way home from the airport? It does doesn’t it? Ew don’t fucking tell me I’m already getting visuals.” She groaned.

“Well fucking stop those are my visuals asshole, that shits private.” He mumbled completely negating the fact that he totally fucked on an airplane.

“Yea, yea, yea. Tell me about life in that shit hole anyway.”

They each leaned back resting beers on their thighs and enjoying their little piece of sibling bonding time.

“Well the Gallaghers are fucking weird. On one hand they’re nothing like us and then on the other the similarities are ridiculous. I spent most of the time drinking their beer and hiding behind Ian. He must’ve actually like missed it. He seems younger there, almost like an old version of himself. But uh . . . He lives so close to home sometimes just walking pass that old corner where Iggy and Joey used to hang out at made it hard to breathe. Everything’s the same. Like you know how shit changes here constantly? It’s like time never moved. Like they all just sit there frozen or some shit.”

Mandy shuttered beside him taking a sip of her beer.

“You go back?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fuck no I didn’t go back. You couldn’t even go to the state of Chicago what makes you think I was gonna take my faggot ass to the doorstep to let him murder me.”

She shrugged. “Well you’re a lot tougher than me. Could’ve fucked Ian on the door step, that would’ve been a little funny.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, like he hadn’t already heard that suggestion before.

“He wants to go back for Christmas. Something about reconnecting with his family. Bridging the gaps of his old life with his new one.”

“That a bad thing?”

“That fucker you can’t keep your pants on around doesn’t like me too much. Neither does the oldest one. What if they convince him I’m no good?” Mickey shrugged playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Mick that could never happen. Ian loves you. You were there when they weren’t. That’s gotta count for something. We’re Milkovichs our name can’t be too good over there; you just gotta prove ‘em wrong.”

“Yea I’m sure I did a great job of that by fucking him on their couch.”

“WHAT?!”

“We thought no one would be home!” He grunted having explained the same thing to Ian’s family numerous times the rest of the trip.

The weekend really hadn’t been that eventful. Ian had connected with his family and Mickey had watched. He’d tried relentlessly to link the two, but both were just as stubborn as could be. Mickey felt like they looked at him as a thug, as someone beneath them who wasn’t good enough for Ian, and goddammit it pissed him off. It had been his soul mission to feel good enough and to get to a place where he knew he was worthy which wasn’t easy fuck you very much. Being around Ian’s family was like putting a recovering alcoholic in a brewery, a recipe for fucking disaster.

But it made Ian happy, and for that Mickey supposed he was somewhat grateful. Not to mention that airplane sex was probably the best thing to ever happen to their relationship so good job Gallaghers on that one. He was just glad to be back in the safety of his apartment with his beer and his art, the real things that mattered in the world. Mickey was a recluse, antisocial asshole and proud of it, so of course it was time to make him do more shit he didn’t wanna do.

Ian came in with his hair flopping in his eye as he ran a smile on his face bright enough to make you shield your eyes. Mickey felt himself smile just at the knowledge of Ian’s existence. Because things were good and they were happy, and in love and all that other bullshit. Ian brought this light with him wherever he went and fuck if Mickey wasn’t appreciative that he was a part of it.

“Mick guess what happened!” He cried straddling his boyfriend’s hips like he wasn’t twelve feet taller than him.

“You finally decided you’ve had enough of me and you’re gonna kill me by smothering me with your daddy long legs?” Mickey grunted shifting to make room.

Ian laughed; too joyous to let his snarky comments dampen the moment. He just kissed him and intertwined their fingers leaving Mandy to realize how full blown domestic her brother had become.

“Come on be serious for two seconds. I’m excited here.”

“Alright, alright. Did you uh ace your macro final?”

Ian just shook his head grinning. “Nope. Well I haven’t gotten my grades back yet, but that’s not it.”

“You bought a new blender?”

“Shit, no remind me to do that though, my juices need to be smoother.”

Mickey sighed leaning back on the couch. “How long we gonna do this before you just tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

“Good boyfriends entertain their partner’s whims Mickey.” Ian mumbled squeezing his fingers.

“Great I’m a terrible boyfriend, now what is it?”

Mandy was biting her lip trying not smile. She wasn’t sure when they started being so cute together, or when Mickey turned into such a mushy pushover, but she was all for it. Relationship Mickey that let his boyfriend straddle him in front of her sure beat closeted Mickey who gave her titty twisters all the fucking time. Although once she thought about it she was reminded that he still did that.  She also made sure to make a mental note of every cute thing they did to tease him for. Hand holding and fingers intertwining quickly moved to top of the list.

“I booked Paris!” Ian murmured an adorable puppy dog expression on his face.

“Sorry freckles you’re gonna have to elaborate a little bit.”

He rolled his eyes sitting himself down on Mickey’s lap and finally explaining.

“You know how they have fashion week every year at like the fashion capitals of the world? There’s New York and there’s Paris and there’s Milan, and your unethically sexy boyfriend booked Paris. This is the biggest moment of my career yet Mick!”

“Hey! And I guess me painting you and beginning one of the most romantic love stories of all time was just a walk in the park huh?” Mickey grunted.

“The most amazing, orgasm inducing walk in the park ever babe.” He grinned pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s neck.

Mandy shook her head. “You two are so fucking disgusting with your cute bullshit it’s not even funny.”

“No one told you to do the long distance shit with another Gallagher, I’m pretty sure I got the best one.” Mickey smirked.

Mandy definitely noticed that there was no longer a complaint to being called babe. Was there anything Ian couldn’t get Mickey to endure?

“Back to the matter at hand children! I’m gonna be on the fucking runway for the biggest designers this world’s ever seen and we’re talking about you fucking my brother? Irrelevant.”

Mickey smiled at the happiness clearly evident on Ian’s face.

“And you couldn’t do this in New York where you actually live because….?”

“Because I wanna go to fucking Paris and kiss your brother at the Eiffel tower that’s why.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think you’re getting my ass anywhere near the Eiffel tower.” Mickey spat.

“You will go. You will like it and I will document every second of our adorable gayness in this beautiful place. I’ll hold your hand on the way up if you’re that scared heights.”

“Who the fuck said they were scared of heights?”

Ian just smiled letting him continue with the façade of never being scared of anything. Jesus Mickey was adorable.

“We’re doing date night tonight, but you can totally tag along Mands.” Ian smiled kicking Mickey in the shin when he shot the idea down.

“I’ll have you two know I have better things to do than to be a third wheel to you two eye fucking each other across a table.” She insisted downing the rest of her beer. “Me and the girls are going dancing tonight.”

“Oh shit.” Mickey groaned.

“DANCING? Dancing, we never go dancing, Mick I wanna dance.” Ian gasped like a fucking twelve year old girl.

Mandy giggled slipping off of the couch and heading towards the door to let her plan unfold. It was just too easy and too fun to fuck with Mickey.

“Great, you go with Mandy and I can get some work done.”

“No. Come on Mickey it’ll be fun I promise.”

“I don’t dance.”

“I say you can’t.”

Mickey scoffed. “Don’t fucking quote High School Musical two at me.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating that not only have you seen High School Musical , but that you’ve witnessed it enough times to recognize quotes and differentiate between movies?”

“Oh fuck off that movie’s a classic and you’re changing the subject. This is not one of those things where I say I’m not gonna do it and then two hours later I’m right in the middle of the absolute fuckery that I don’t want to do. Ian Gallagher I am NOT dancing.”

“I’ll see you guys later!” Mandy called from the door.

Ian waved goodbye and Mickey just sort of nodded in her general direction as they continued to fight over what they would do that night. Mandy was convinced they were already married. Had they been in south side they’d practically have two babies and food stamps with how couplely they acted. She knew if Ian had anything to say about it they would show up that night because her brother had a complex when it came to Ian. He always wanted to make him happy and he always found some way to do so. She smiled at the door before hearing Ian shout something about Mickey being just fine when they were fucking in the air, and her smile quickly faded. Jesus Mickey.

 

*                                                                     *                                                                                             *

 

 

“Would you like to see a dessert menu?” The waiter asked.

Ian looked over at Mickey looking clearly uncomfortable in his button up shirt, and sighed not wanting to push his luck.

“I think we’ll just take the check, thank you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Bring him the fucking menu would you?”

The guy nodded quickly turning away before Mickey could cuss at him some more. Ian stared at him for a second pursing his lips.

“We don’t have to eat dessert. We can leave if you want; I know this kind of thing makes you uncomfortable.” He shrugged.

“What kind of thing?”

“Button up shirts, dinner reservations, meals that don’t come with fries as a side. I don’t need it you know, you’re enough.”

Mickey swiped his thumb over lip feeling the back of his neck heat as Ian’s words.

“What’s the point of making money if I can’t buy a forty dollar steak every once in a while? Maybe I wanna pamper myself you ever think of that? Not everything has to be about you Gallagher.”

But he smiled and it was enough to get Ian to relax. They’d only gone to a nice restaurant once before, and the first time Mickey had showed up in his work clothes splattered in paint, and giving mean looks to anyone that might judge him. It wasn’t an everyday thing, but Ian liked it. Even if he knew Mickey only took him so he wouldn’t have to endure dancing with Mandy and her friends. He liked going anywhere that meant he got to show off Mickey. As far as Ian was concerned Mickey was too sexy to walk around in sweatpants and tank tops though he kind of loved that look too. Those rare occasions that he did wear a dress shirt meant the world to him though, because he knew exactly who he was doing it for.

Mickey on the other hand really fucking liked the expensive ass steaks. He also liked customer service that made him feel like a human being. Then there was the look on Ian’s face when they sat down around other couples in public. Mickey knew that it wasn’t normal to not wanna be in public with your boyfriend. He couldn’t help the baggage he came with, but Ian was understanding and compliant enough that every now and again they went somewhere special and ate something other than the pizza and Chinese of their everyday diet. Mickey could have his steak and Ian could have whatever healthy shit it was he ate to keep his body in shape. It was a win, win. Not like they were holding hands on top of the fucking table or anything.

“You wanna rent a movie or something tonight?” Ian asked digging into his fruity healthy ass dessert.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “What happened to gyrating it with Mandy and her girlfriends.”

“I’d rather gyrate at home with you.”

Mickey chuckled keeping his eyes on his cake.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They finished eating before hauling a cab back to the apartment. Mickey was full and sleepy, but Ian was wide awake. He knew the fashion show coming up was a big deal for him. He felt like there was so much more he should be doing. His mind began to race as he thought about it all. Like how he wanted to focus on his arms a little more, maybe bulk up. And the kitchen light was probably still on. But then he needed to do the laundry cause Mickey’s favorite sweats were too dirty for even him to wear. And he wanted to know what his final grades were for the year. Macro was fucking terrible, there was no way he got anything better than a C plus.

_What the fuck was that bright light? Oh shit just a street lamp. Hahahaha. Mickey looks so fucking hot right now. We should fuck somewhere new tonight. Have we fucked in Mandy’s room yet? Ugh I gotta be there for that photography class at noon. No we fucked against the door, not in the actual room. That should be fun. What day is it anyway?_

His brain cycled through it all constantly moving, working, and before he knew it they were home. They never even got to picking out a movie before Ian was on him pulling his body closer and going in for the kill. Mickey smiled because it was Ian and he was kind of in love and kind of adored this kid. And when things are good they’re fucking good. So that’s all that they focus on that night. The good. And how it feels when they’re moving together. Thinking of anything else would only make shit more complicated.

*                                                                                     *                                                                                             *

Mickey’s woken up by the sound of loud ass music. He groaned cursing into his pillow and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Sitting up seemed like the greatest challenge ever, and it damn near was. He finally noticed Ian a few moments later. Ian had moved his pull up bar thingy to their bedroom door and was grunting as he pulled himself up over and over again. Sweat pooled over his brow the harder he worked. Once the distraction of his lover being totally fucking attractive finally wore off he looked over at his phone to see that it was five forty-five in the morning. They hadn’t fallen asleep until two.

“What the fuck Gallagher!” He groaned tugging at their sheets.

“Is it too loud? Sorry I’m just getting a head start for Paris. I’m gonna go for a run next you wanna come with?”

“When did you wake up man?” He huffed heading to shut off the glorious sound of Uptown Funk.

“Four. It’s a good day to be alive Mick, what do you say you wanna come with for my run? Eight miles goes real quick.”

Mind you the entire time they were having this conversation Ian was still doing pull ups like a mad man.

“Fuck no I don’t wanna run eight miles. Come back to bed dickhead.”

“Why you gonna try and wear me out Milkovich?” He smirked dropping down to the ground.

“Noooo, it’s not even six in the morning and you only stopped pounding my ass at two because I passed out. We keep fucking like that and your dick is gonna fall off. You sound ridiculous.”

Ian rolled his eyes moving to wrap his arms gingerly around his boyfriend’s waist.

“Fine grumpy. Go to bed. I’ll be back in an hour. We’ll have breakfast.”

Mickey was too tired to argue letting the ginger giant push him softly to the mattress. The next few hours were absolute heaven of nothing, but sleep. What a glorious occasion. Not waking up till ten was basically his life’s dream. Waking up before just felt disrespectful to his temple of a body. He thought it wasn’t much of a big deal, thought Gallagher just had a lot of energy because of his show coming up. He didn’t know the signs yet.

Ian still wasn’t used to it himself. He could always see the warning signs if he looked back on the situation hard enough, but never in time to stop it from happening. Not that he really could if he wanted to. As far as he was concerned he just had to get ready for Paris. Paris was too important. And that’s all it was, all it was allowed to be.

Mickey just noticed that he had to eat pizza alone cause Gallagher was only eat green leafy shit and these weird ass juices that tasted like absolute ass fruit. He’d learned that the hard way when he’d snuck one into his studio while Ian was at work and nearly vomited. That was a delightful experience. And Ian would start to talk faster every now and again. Just spout out random ideas about how he should drop out of college and start his own smoothie business, or how he was gonna start training for a marathon right that fucking minute. Ridiculously unrealistic shit and when Mickey didn’t entertain those ideas immediately, he found a side of Ian he’d yet to see.

“So what do you think?”

Ian was standing at the stove cooking some random shit for dinner, while Mickey sat at the counter trying something out on his sketch pad and nursing a beer.

“About what?”

“About the smoothie business? We could go in on it together! Mick it would be like our thing, our own little thing that we have together. Ian and Mickey’s go-go smoothies. Doesn’t that sound amazing? Who needs college when I’ve got million dollar ideas just stored up in the noggin?”

Mickey just laughed at him. “You fucking kidding me? If that’s your version of a million dollar idea the public school system really has failed.”

He kept laughing reaching for his beer and expecting Ian to join in with him only to be dully shocked when he was met with sad puppy dog eyes.

“You’re making fun of me?” His voice cracked suddenly.

Mickey stared at him extremely confused at how one person could flip their emotions that quick. He didn’t know though, had never truly experienced Ian in any other form but perfectly normal.

“N—No? I thought we were joking around. You’re not gonna cry on me are you Gallagher?”

And then it was just like compete serenity clouded his face wiping it clean of all traces of sadness before his easy going grin appeared again.

“Of course!” He laughed. “That’s funny. Dinner’s almost ready; take that sketchbook back to your studio so it doesn’t get dirty.”

And that was the end of it. Or the beginning.


	13. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: “Oh for the love of god so you’re not a man of many words Ian’s stuck around this long it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about that. You’re a man of action, of showing the people you care about that you love them through the things that you do for them and not through stupid ass words that mean jack shit. You’re a Milkovich and when we want something we get it. So go get your boyfriend take him to some romantic ass dinner and just love him you jackass it’s not that difficult.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday and I'lll post if i want too. . . so you guys get an extra chapter this week and It's definitely one of my favorites so i hope you love it :)

Summer moved ahead in full swing and Ian wanted to take full advantage. He wanted to go out, explore the city. He wanted to explore it with Mickey more than anything, enjoy this incredible feeling of being in love and being content with is life. He wanted to see a show on Broadway though he knew he had a better chance of getting Mickey to marry him then to see a musical, so he settled for art. He loved it, although nowhere near as much as Mickey, but enough that he didn’t mind spending an entire afternoon in quiet spacious buildings with priceless artifacts around him. It was something they had in common, something they both loved, and Ian loved having stuff in common with Mickey simply because having a connection to another person felt damn good.

They would wake up early on Saturdays, take the subway into Manhattan and spend the entire day in a trance. And the best part was that Mickey would get inspired nearly every time, and he’d get back home with new vigor ready to create. That’s exactly how he’d come to finally paint Ian after sex, though it was without his knowledge at the time. He busted out one of his big canvases and the good paints not that cheap shit they sell to noobs that smudges and blends terribly before taking in Ian’s sleeping form on the floor. He found himself taking pictures of his lover, saving them for later when he was alone to paint this wonderful realistic thing. Mickey was so used to abstraction and the ability to create something that had never been made before, but painting Ian was still one of his favorite things to do.

As they got closer to Paris though Ian had to spend more time at word practicing for the damn thing. Mickey didn’t like that too much. He wanted his ginger back.

“I don’t understand why you gotta go somewhere every five fucking seconds anyway. You show up to fuck then you run off again for another twelve hours.” Mickey mumbled around his post-sex cigarette.

Ian was pulling his jeans back on and buttoning them already after having came not even five minutes beforehand. In his defense he came home for his lunch break every day, not a very easy feat in New York City traffic, and his mind was rarely on food by the time he got there. There was very little time for actual small talk by the time it was all set and done.

“This show’s a big deal Mick; it takes a lot to prepare for. In a couple weeks you’ll have me all to yourself again, I promise.” He grinned climbing back into bed with his boyfriend.

“Yea, yea. You coming back home at a decent hour for once?”

Ian sighed kissing his way along Mickey’s throat. “Some of the models are getting together for annual cheat night. I think it’s wings and beer this time. You wanna come?”

“I hate people Gallagher.”

“You don’t hate me.” He pointed out capturing a nipple between his lips.

Mickey groaned. “Yea well your dick is huge so I put up with you. Don’t you have somewhere to be instead of continuing your sexual advances on me?”

“Mmmm I hate leaving you Mickey. You know that right? I’m only at home when I’m with you.”

Mickey nodded softly struggling to meet his eyes.

“And you’ll come right? I don’t know about you but before NYC I’d never been out of Chicago let alone the country.”

“Don’t you want to invite Mandy or some who actually enjoys that shit?” Mickey mumbled.

He was immensely uncomfortable with the idea of someone wanting his support period let alone halfway across the fucking world.

Ian just shook his head. “Nope. I want my little artistic thug there cheering me on and scaring the prissy fashion industry bitches with his fuck you up tattoos. Preferably in a suit of my choosing.”

“What about your family asshat?”

“You are family.” Ian gleamed.

Mickey nearly choked on his cigarette at the words. It was an instant reminder of when he’d stood up for Ian against Lip. The words had appeared in the heat of the moment but he hadn’t meant them any less. Knowing that Ian felt the same way . . . . it was a bit much. Ian moved on though trying the tactic that usually worked which was sex, sex, and more sex. What an amazing boyfriend he was.

“We could rent a suite at some fancy hotel.” He mumbled cuddling up to mickey and intertwining their legs through the sheets. “Maybe one with a big tall window, nice and wide huh Mick? Let Paris see your pretty face when you take my cock up your ass?”

“Jesus Christ go to work you sex addict.” Mickey laughed pushing him playfully.

“Will you come?” He asked puppy dog eyes in full affect dropping his confident façade.

“Fine! Fuck now go away.”

Ian smiled swooping in to kiss Mickey just long enough to get his heart stuttering before disappearing out the door. He collapsed back against the sheets never having been more positive that Ian Gallagher would be the death of him.

*                                                                                     *                                                                             *

“Mickey come out here!”

“NO! I look fucking ridiculous Gallagher I told you this was a stupid fucking idea!”

Ian groaned. “You’re fucking brother is so goddamn difficult all of the time.”

Mandy just laughed. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

Ian ignored her sauntering over to the dressing room and pressing his forehead to the door in defeat.

“Mickey I’m spending my entire bonus on this suit. Not because I wanna change you or your wardrobe or anything like that but because this day is really important to me. I’ve worked so hard and I think it’s gonna be really good, and I wanna share that with the man that I love. I want you to look good, dress up good, cause you always look good.” He paused with a sigh trying not to sound as gay as humanely possible. “You don’t look ridiculous I know that you don’t. You’re my Mickey . . . You’re sexy. I love you so just—come on out and please let me see.”

There was a long pause where Ian was sure Mickey was never going to come out. They were going to spend the rest of their lives in this designer store that his boss had to personally hook him up with so he could even make an appointment and he’d be lucky if Mickey let him jerk him off under the door. This is what his life would become. He was having mental images of them moving their bed into the store when the door miraculously opened and a hot piece of Ukrainian ass walked out.

He looked . . . Miraculous. The suit Ian had picked out was all black pairing deliciously with his pale skin. The tie was a solid purple popping just slightly against the darkness of the suit. It wasn’t fair to look that fucking good though and then have the nerve to complain about it. Ian licked his bottom lip causing Mickey to raise an eyebrow. He was starting to wonder if Gallagher had some weird ass boss and secretary fantasy he should know about. In all honestly after the choking and the butt plug he wasn’t so sure anything could surprise him anymore. Then the little shit went and punched him totally ruining his day dream.

“Ow what the fuck Ian!” He gasped.

“You look fucking hot you dickhead! Got me spilling my fucking heart out in the middle of a fucking store for no goddamn reason other than to be a baby what the fuck’s the matter with you?”

Mickey didn’t see what the big deal was with suits. It was a suit for Christ’s sakes. But with Ian things were always different. Damn him and his differences.

A smirk snuck slowly onto his face. “You’re kinda sexy when you’re angry.”

“Yea?” It was Ian’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

Mickey bit his lip reaching out boldly to grab Ian by his ass.

“Yea.”

Ian leaned in suddenly to whisper something in Mickey’s ear and even though she couldn’t hear, Mandy was almost positive whatever it was would wind them both up in hell. That’s assuming the whole penis in the ass thing didn’t get them there first though she had her doubts about that fuckery as well. If Mickey’s eyes were anything to go by though God probably covered his ears for that one.

“Can you two wait until you get home with that shit? No one wants to see you two kinky freaks get busy.”

“Why are you here again except to irritate the fuck out of me with your constant cock blocking?”

“Ian invited me. He’s the brother I never got with you fuckface.” She grinned

“Stop inviting my fucking sister places. She’s a royal pain in my ass.”

“Would you rather I fly in Lip?”

Mickey quickly scowled. Fucking Gallagher.

The final days leaning up their departure for Paris were maddening. Mickey was convinced Gallagher was losing his fucking mind. The kid was bouncing off the walks twenty-four seven packing, and unpacking, and packing some more. He constantly wanted to work out which Mickey definitely wasn’t into. It was ridiculous. And on top of that Mandy had managed to get into his head with her romantic bullshit.

“So what’s your plan?” she’d asked.

He’d been enjoying pizza for the third time that week when she brought it up.

“What fucking plan?”

“Your plan to woo your boyfriend in one of the most romantic fucking places in the world? You know he’s waiting for you to do something right, but he’s too afraid to ask you. Jesus you’re dumb.”

“Nah Gallagher’s not like that” He insisted dismissing her instantly.

She rolled her eyes. “Ian is exactly like that. He just acts like he’s not because he loves you jackass. It is so blatantly clear that he’s a hopeless romantic that just wants you to buy him flowers and go stargazing and all that other shit you’re too pussy to admit you wanna do to. It’s Paris Mick you HAVE to do something.”

He looked up from his pizza nerves instantly setting in. His sister was unfortunately very rarely wrong, unless of course it came to her choice in men. People lied to their significant others all the time. But why say you don’t want something when really you wanted it the whole fucking time? Men.

“Oh fuck me, what am I supposed to do some throw rose petals on the bed and light candles? Could we be any gayer?”

“I don’t know but the only shit you spend money on is bills, pizza, weed, and fucking art supplies. You outa have plenty of money saved up so make it count bitch.”

God he hated his sister sometimes.

*                                                                             *                                                             *

“Here I got you your coffee the way you like it with the whip cream and the chocolate shavings and everything. The server thought it was for my little sister, but I told her no thank you we will not adhere to your gender stereotypes my man likes his coffee like he likes his men tall, milky and ready to be sucked down.” Ian grinned.

Mickey raised an eyebrow taking his cup from Ian before kicking his ankle with a sharp twist of his foot.

“Talk about my fucking coffee one more time shitstick. It is four in the morning and I am not nearly alert enough to not kick your ass right now.” He mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured smirk fading into a shyer more adorable thing as he picked at his sweatpants. “I’m just so glad you decided to come with me. Paris is really beautiful, that’s what all the guys that I work with were saying. They’ve all done this before and I haven’t and I’m kinda scared so the fact that you’re here ensures that I’m gonna actually get on the plane and do this thing. And you’re gonna wear a suit just cause I asked you to when you’d never wear pants a day in your life if it was up to you and I . . . I’m not really sure what I did to deserve you in my life Mick but I’m grateful. It’s four in the morning and you’re here and I love you and I never wanna be without you so… you want a napkin? I’m gonna go get you a napkin.”

He picked himself up heading off to the Starbucks line again for napkins. Mickey stared after him trying to get his brain to unfreeze so he could form a coherent thought. Although their relationship was the healthiest form of love either of them had ever experienced nothing’s ever perfect. Their communication could’ve been better, but instead they just had these little moments where one of them would let something really important slip and leave the other struggling to pick their next move. Well mostly just Mickey. Ian seemed to have an act for responding under pressure whereas Mickey just shut down.

So when Ian came back and Mickey had nothing to say he didn’t take it personally. In fact Ian never shared his feelings with Mickey in order to get some kind of response out of him. He said what he said simply because he wanted that man to know how special and irreplaceable he was. He wanted him to know that he appreciated the sacrifices he made whether it was as little as putting on a tie or as big as letting him move in after years of a terrifying ineptness when it came to commitment. He loved Mickey for who he was, not for what everyone else was convinced he should want him to be.

They sat down in first class on the plane, Mickey’s treat to Ian for his big day, and also the reason they were flying at four o’clock in the fucking morning, but hey what are you gonna do when a Milkovich sees a discount they jump at it gift or not. Ian was putting his feet up and settling beneath the blanket the stewardess had provided him ready to sleep through the treacherous flight when all of a sudden a head was nuzzling into his. When he turned his and Mickey’s noses touched and Mickey didn’t even punch him or move to the other side of the plane. Talk about progress.

“What Mick?” He whispered smiling softly.

Mickey cursed that smile to hell as he reached up to cup Ian’s jaw in his palm.

“It’s not that I don’t feel the same way; you know that right? The problem is that that’s exactly how I feel and I just don’t know how to say it. I’m not good with words Gallagher but if there’s a life without you all I know is I ain’t interested. I’ll always be there. Always. Cause I like love you a little bit.” He mumbled.

And his insides burned with the radiating sunshine he felt inside. It wasn’t poetic or dressed up with fancy words and symbols and shit. It was just Mickey. Just Mickey giving himself to Ian constantly with every fear that it brought to his bones. It was him being honest with both Ian and himself, and it made Ian love him even fucking more.

“Mkay.” He said eyeing Mickey’s lips with that big ass smile of his. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Mkay.” Mickey smiled back.

The plane lifted off and they kissed and cuddled closer together on their way to Paris. Mickey thought it was the most romantic thing he’d ever done, and that maybe when it was with Gallagher romance wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Nine hours and a lot of confusing French translations later Ian was hauling bags into their room while Mickey disappeared into the bathroom to call Mandy.

“What the fuck do you want?” She grumbled into the receiver.

“Jesus who shit in your coco puffs this morning?”

“It’s too early for your bullshit Mickey.”

He rolled his eyes. “Bitch it’s fucking noon.”

“You idiotic cunt it is six in the fucking morning in America so what the fuck do you want?”

Mickey really loved his sister sometimes.

He smiled. “Okay so like this thing with Gallagher isn’t gonna work. He just professed his love for me with Starbucks and napkins and all I had to say in return was and I quote ‘I love you a little bit’. Romance is dead Mands.”

“Oh for the love of god so you’re not a man of many words Ian’s stuck around this long it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about that. You’re a man of action, of showing the people you care about that you love them through the things that you do for them and not through stupid ass words that mean jack shit. You’re a Milkovich and when we want something we get it. So go get your boyfriend take him to some romantic ass dinner and just love him you jackass it’s not that difficult.” She bit out before yawning

“Hmmm yea okay….Thanks.” He murmured.

“Don’t mention it.”

Then she hung up leaving Mickey to be a big boy for once. He took a deep breath wringing his hands uncomfortably before taking his position on the bed with a box perched securely on his lap.

“Ian! Come here!” 

_Shit I totally sound nervous as all fuck this is the word idea ever, he’s gonna break up with me and go fuck some Frenchmen who knows how to use his fucking words._

“What’s wrong?” Ian called appearing frantic in the doorway before taking in Mickey’s position.

He quickly raised an eyebrow smirk lighting up his lips. “Mick is this payback for what we did on the flight from Chicago?”

“No shithead just come sit down will you.” Mickey groaned uncomfortable enough with the situation.

Ian smiled running to join his boyfriend on their big romantical bed. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to cuddle or fuck on it.

“What is it Mickey?” He asked softly.

Mickey shrugged. “I got you something.”

“Well it’s awfully big to be a sex toy but I’ll take the bait, can I open it?”

Mickey nodded sliding the box onto the bed to let Ian have at it. It was a simple box with a bow on top, about as close as Mickey got to wrapping a present in his entire life. Ian lifted the lid still thinking that it would be something sex related, but was shocked to find out that it wasn’t at all. It was a camera. It had the attachable lenses and the shoulder strap and everything. Ian had taken a couple of classes and fallen in love with it, but Mickey noticed when the fashion show came up he got too busy, too absorbed in everything else. He thought it was sweet, but then again what the fuck did he know about romance right?

“Mick,” he breathed fingers touching each piece within its padding.

Mickey shrugged again. “Guy at the store said it was good for beginners. He also said it’s good that you’ve taken classes instead of just taking a nice selfie on instagram and deciding you should become a photographer. I thought you might wanna look into it after this whole fashion show shit is over.”

Ian noticed that Mickey wasn’t looking him in the eye because he’d done the thing. The thing with the sweetness and the love and the thoughtfulness in the gift. It was just about the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for him. So Mickey’s just sitting there one minute positive that Ian’s going to hate it because he hasn’t said more than his name yet, and then the next he’s being tackled to the bed by a certain ginger giant with way too much enthusiasm. Ian wraps his entire body around Mickey, legs and arms locking around his back like he isn’t two of Mickey stacked on top of each other. He knocks them down so that they’re sideways on the bed before kissing Mickey slow and warm and lovingly hands cradling that beautiful little face of his. It kind of takes Mickey’s breath away.

“That’s the most amazing thing anyone has ever gotten me.” Ian murmured pressing their foreheads together. “Thank you Mick.”

“Yea don’t mention it.” He said face flaming red.

“I’m gonna mention it forever. You didn’t have to do that it must’ve cost you a lot of money.”

Shit, yea it did. Mickey had never wanted to steal something so badly. Who the fuck spends three hundred bones on a camera. A fucking camera. Just because he didn’t spend his money didn’t mean he wanted to spend big sums on it at one time. But it was Ian, and anything that might make Ian happy had this way of being worth it in the end. Even if Mickey missed his three hundred dollars.

“A little birdy told me I only spend money on art supplies, weed, pizza, and bills which you now split with me so I should probably go all out.”

“I’ll thank Mandy later right now I wanna thank my boyfriend.” He mumbled pulling their lips back together.

Mickey was all rainbows and sunshine as Ian slithered his way down to his crotch. The blowjob that that fucking camera resulted in probably made the money worth it even more. He had plans though, the camera wasn’t it, but how could anyone focus with Gallagher’s talented ass mouth on their dick? It was impossible.

“W—wait I had plans Ian.” He moaned hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“You gonna tie me up? Mark me a little bit?” Ian asked tongue trailing Mickey’s head.

“Oh fuck. No man come on I’m trying to be romantic and you’re ruining it.”

“This is so romantic. This nice expensive bed. The chandelier when you first enter our room….your cock hitting the back of my throat repeatedly.” He hummed.

“Shit you fucking suck.” Mickey grunted tugging Ian’s head back down to his crotch.

In Mickey’s defense when Mandy was giving him a play by play on how to be romantic she never specifically said anything about blow jobs. So it was totally fair game right?

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“Where are we going anyway?” Ian murmured swinging his and mickey’s hands in the air.

Mickey just rolled his eyes. “Isn’t there some saying about shutting the fuck up and being patient?”

“I thought you were trying to be romantic dickhead.” He smirked.

“I am goddammit. Doesn’t make this shit easy. You bring that expensive ass camera?”

Ian kept holding Mickey’s hand but reached to touch at the camera around his neck.

“Got it.”

Mickey caught sight of the smile on the redhead’s face and just shook his head cause holy fuck was he in love with him. His plans for the day included letting Ian experience all the cute romantic shit the city had to offer without being super-duper gay. This is still Mickey we’re talking about here. So he took him to what was supposed to be Paris’ most exotic park where you could enter these caves with waterfalls and limestone and shit. It seemed like the kind of thing tourists take pictures of, plus Gallagher liked walking so why not?

It was actually kind of cool. It reminded Mickey of when he and Mandy were little and he would pretend that they were looking in caves like fucking Indiana jones or something whenever dad would get drunk and start yelling. Something about being with Ian made it better though. He liked that Ian held his hand and didn’t let go so that he didn’t have to admit that he liked it. He liked that Ian would get so excited and make them stop every two seconds to take more pictures. He liked the way the wind touched Ian’s hair pulling that one lonely strand back into place. It kind of hit him that it wasn’t necessarily the caves that he liked, but the idea of being there with this person that he loved so much. Wow that’s gay.

They worked their way through the caves and it was kind of like the adventure that just kept going. After the waterfalls and the pretty jagged rock was this tiny café tucked securely away within Parc Buttes Chaumont whatever the fuck that means, and Mickey felt a little relieved. It was plastic lawn chairs and wooden picnic tables thrown about with cheap lights threaded along a cozy white house. It was good boos and a lot of people laughing and enjoying their day versus the expensive candle lit shit he had coming later. Not to mention he was convinced French people didn’t know how to price their shit cause it was cheap as all fuck too. It was definitely Mickey’s kind of place.

Everything was perfect. They were drinking and laughing with locals and Mickey was pretending he didn’t see Ian snapping pictures of him while he drank his beer. Then they just had to go and fucking ruin it all with a dance floor. Ian was playing with his camera when he saw all the people heading for the dance floor clapping and having good time. It was the perfect setting. No pressure, no strobe lights, no twinks to make him uncomfortable. If there were ever a moment to get Mickey Milkovich on the dance floor this was it.

“Mickkkkk.” He murmured running his fingers through black hair.

Mickey looked up into those green puppy dog eyes and quickly looked away so that force didn’t blind him.

“No. No, no, no , no , no. I’m not fucking dancing Ian!”

“Babe please!” He whined throwing himself on Mickey. “We’re in Paris right now. We’ll never have this chance again. No one here knows who we are nor will we ever see any of them again. I wanna dance with you Mick. That’d be like the most romantic thing ever. You’d probably have me forever at that point. I mean I could tell our children one day that their father the cruelest thug in the world took _me_ dancing because that’s what men do….”

“Oh for fucks sake let’s dance Gallagher.”

And the excitement on the fucker’s face was truly and actually ridiculous. Ian took Mickey’s hands in his a grin so big on his face even he was surprised his face didn’t split in two. Mickey was awkward at best but he let Ian lead him which meant it was easier to make things not so awkward. It wasn’t even actually dancing and it didn’t need to be. They just moved side to side Ian twirling and laughing and clapping to the music with ease. It didn’t matter to him whether Mickey could or couldn’t dance it mattered that he was doing this fun and energetic thing with this person that he loved so much. Dancing was truly one of the best parts of the entire day and it was all because of Mickey. All because he loved him enough to try. What else could Ian ask for at that point?

For Ian it was a truly magical and wonderful day. His boyfriend had flown to Paris with him and done romance in his own way. It wasn’t rose petals and fucking fondue because Ian didn’t want that kind of shit anyway. All he really needed was Mickey, to know that Mickey was undoubtedly his and no one else’s, but it’d be lying to say he didn’t enjoy the extra stuff. The fluff was kind of the cherry on top of his little Mickey Milkovich cupcake. He felt appreciative and appreciated to be quite honest and maybe a little horny but that was something that just never seemed to go away when he thought of Mickey.

“That was a wonderful day Mick. Really thank you.” Ian smiled nudging their heads together as they entered the suite.

“What makes you think it’s over Firecrotch?”

Ian raised an eyebrow at his smirking boyfriend, wondering what else he could possibly have planned.

“Go get dressed huh? Something nice too, no tank tops or flip flops.” Mickey murmured trailing a finger along Ian’s hips.

“I don’t even own flip flops thank you very much. Where are we going?”  Curiosity and excitement colored his tone.

“Always with the questions? Just do it . . . Babe.”

Mickey winced as Ian completely and totally lost his shit. It was amazing the things that excited this kid. He watched at the carrot top legitimately skipped to their bedroom to get ready spouting this shit about how if this is a dream he didn’t wanna wake up. Like Mickey could only say babe in an alternate universe… Okay so he might’ve had a point.  If skipping his usual derogatory nicknames for something so sickly sweet it made his tongue feel weird got that reaction out of him, Mickey was positive that what he had coming up next would cause rainbows to shoot out of Ian’s ass; and he was a little too excited to see that.

“Mick I don’t even know whether to do business casual or semiformal or hell maybe creative black tie cause you didn’t tell me shit, I better not loo—Holy fuck….”

He stopped at the door way eyes ghosting over Mickey’s entire body. It was a suit. A different suit then the one Ian had picked out for the fashion show. This one was all a dark navy blue with a skinny tie to match and a white button up with nice shoes. Mickey Milkovich had never owned a pair of shoes that cost more than twenty bucks , yet there he stood in fucking dress shoes with that like little bit of heel on the bottom and they were brown and . . . holy fuck. He had one hand in his pocket and the other perched gracefully on the cigarette dangling effortlessly from his lips. He looked like he belonged on the cover of fucking GQ and Ian Gallagher was most definitely here for it. He was actually having trouble breathing at the sight.

“Who are you and what the fuck did you do with my boyfriend?!” He gasped an incredulous smile bracing his face. “Mickey you . . .”

“I’m know I’m ravishing it’s a lot to take in, take your time Gallagher.” He smirked.

Ian nodded shakily. “You’re . . . like beautiful.”

“Alright, alright we get it you ready to get this show on the road or what?”

“Yea just uh give me one second.” He mumbled disappearing.

Mickey let his head fall back against the wall smoke trailing from his nostrils when a flash nearly blinded him. And of course there at the root of his problem was Gallagher smirking down at his camera giving off every vibe possible that he was gonna regret every buying that goddamn thing.

“K let’s go.” He grinned cheesily.

“Jesus you’ll be the death of me.” Mickey mumbled following behind him.

“That’s the plan my love, that is indeed the plan.”

*                                                                                       *                                                                                   *

“The fuck are you looking at Gallagher?”

Ian leaned dreamily on his arm where he had been staring at Mickey for the past ten minutes.

“I just . . . You’re not dying are you?”

Mickey just laughed at the stupidity that was his boyfriend. Because that was a total normal question to ask.

“No you idiot I am not dying.”

“And you didn’t like mysteriously bump your head or get a brain transplant I don’t know about or cheat on me or something?”

“Oh shit you caught me . . . I totally got a brain transplant.” He smirked as Ian rolled his eyes playfully. “I just dropped a couple grand on your ass in one day you could be a little more grateful. This appetizer probably costs half our rent.”

“I am grateful.” Ian mumbled stubbornly reaching out to grab Mickey’s hand on the table. “This is the most anyone has ever done for me. Ned liked to throw money around but only to keep me from leaving I think. This is . . . this is like what love must feel like.”

“Which is a little sad if you think about, having to wait around for little ole’ me to give it to you.”

He shrugged. “It was well worth the way. I love you ya know. And if you wanna end the night with proposing I won’t stop you.”

“Oh thanks for the permission jackass.”  Mickey chuckled grabbing for his whiskey.

“You’re welcome I mean . . .” He paused letting his fingers tighten around Mickey’s. “I love you.”

“As you just said five seconds ago.” Mickey taunted lightly.

“Would just cut the shit and let me finish. I didn’t spend three years of my life working paycheck to paycheck so I could go to therapy and learn how to articulate my feelings just for you to interrupt me every two seconds asshole.”

“There’s my Gallagher. Alright, continue.”

Ian just shook his head keeping his eyes on Mickey’s tattoos to calm him down.

“You didn’t have to do any of this. And yet you did it anyway. I’m not sure if it’s cause Mandy made you think that you had too or if it’s just cause it’s Paris or if maybe you feel the same way that I feel. Cause I keep waking up thinking that there’s no way I could love or care about you more than I do right in this moment, but it never stops. We could’ve just been a hook up. I could’ve fucked you that day and left and maybe we would’ve seen each other again after the art show, maybe we wouldn’t have, but I didn’t and you did this really weird thing where you like made me fall in love with you really, really hard and I’ve yet to figure out what to do with that.  But you’ve yet to run away from me or realize how genuinely unworthy of you I am so thank you. For loving me the way that I love you. That means a lot to me.”

And suddenly this was it. This was Mickey big moment to put himself out there and tell Ian all of the things he wish he could say every day because Ian deserved to know them. It was hard, Mickey wasn’t very eloquent at all when it came to how he was feeling, but he’d do anything for Ian.

“I’m not good at this shit like at all but uh… I didn’t do all of this because of Mandy or because of some city of love bullshit. Sure it was Mandy’s idea to do _something_ but I did it because I fucking wanted to. Because you been through a lot, and no one’s ever told you that your best is enough. Because I’m not gooey and I’m not romantic and I’ll never be one of those guys that does the shit you deserve. But you do deserve it, all of it. I wish I could give you days like this every day. I wish I could give you more than beers and pizza and shitty drawings. I wish you never had to try to get me to dance or take you out cause I….fuck I want t—to make you happy all the time. I don’t wanna be enough Ian I wanna be more than you ever thought to ask for. And the fact that you love me for what I am doesn’t make a bit of damn sense but I’m more than grateful I’m fucking indebted to you or something.”

It took him a minute but he got there, and with every word Ian swore he felt his heart get heavier in his chest. He wanted to tell him how he didn’t deserve it, how Mickey was the most amazing person he’d ever met and that he deserved all those things and more. But he knew how hard it was for Mickey to say the things that he said so he didn’t push him leaving the both of them to just sit there squeezing each other’s hands tighter than ever. It was skin clutching skin because they kept each other grounded, when their fingers intertwined everything was right in the world.

“Are you fucking crying right now Gallagher?” Mickey gasped in astonishment.

Ian sniffled. “No…. Oh fuck you that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Why are you an artist when you could be a poet or some shit? Shakespeare didn't have jack shit on that. oh my god my heart Mickey." 

“Oh Jesus I can’t take you anywhere.”

So they held hands in Paris over a candle lit dinner with expensive ass food and even more expensive alcohol and it all managed to feel worth it. Because Ian loved Mickey and Mickey loved Ian and that's all either of them could stand to give a fuck about. The rest of the world and it's stupid, troublesome problems would have to wait. 


	14. The Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They made their way back to New York collapsing in bed together with soft kisses and shockingly warm caresses. Ian fell asleep happy and content, feeling more stable than he’d ever felt in his whole life. But the next morning when he woke up he couldn’t get out of bed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even pull the blankets over himself. He stared at the wall with dead eyes with no desire to do or say anything, which was all fine and well. That is until Mickey woke up.

“I’m sorry you wanna do WHAT?!”

“We die Orange boy’s hair darker, then he really makes pussies wet.” She grinned in her thick Russian accent.

Mickey’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Excuse me?! His dick only goes near asses with another dick a little bit in the other direction fuck you very much.”

“Oh Mick calm down it’s just hair.” Ian mumbled embarrassed by his boyfriend’s outburst.

His manager Svetlana was the third scariest woman he’d ever met. Second under Mandy and third under Fiona. She was truly a horrifying woman, and he loved her to death. He trusted her too, so if she said the hair needed to be darker, the hair needed to be darker. In all honesty they’d almost gotten away with it, thinking that if they sent Mickey to the free food and alcohol he wouldn’t be back until quite possibly the end of the show, but Mickey’s dumbass was so incapable of orienting himself around the place that he got lost and barely made his way back to ask for help. When he did get back his beautiful carrot top of a boyfriend was about to be mutilated with fucking hair dye.

“Like fuck it’s just hair get your ass over here Firecrotch.” Mickey spat tugging on Ian’s belt loops.

Ian gave Svetlana a sheepish grin, seeing as how this was the first time Mickey was meeting her and he’d already managed to curse about three dozen times, as he followed Mickey away from the chair.

“Babe you gotta relax, you’re too tense all of the time.” Ian soothed wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist.

Mickey was having none of that. “Don’t try your hyper-sexual cute shit on me right now assface you can’t dye that hair.”

“Mick it’s just—”

“IT IS NOT JUST FUCKING HAIR!” He fumed before finally lowering his voice. “It’s my hair. I tug on that shit when we fuck. I run my fingers through that hair when we’re lying on the couch or when you’re asleep. It gives me leverage when you’re sucking me off. How can I call you carrot top or Firecrotch if you take my hair away?!”

Ian smiled. “Awwww Mickey that’s kind of sweet.”

Mickey shoved him in the stomach before flipping him off but Ian just laughed and pulled him closer.

“They’re just gonna make it a little darker. It’ll wash out eventually and you’ll have your carrot top back. Besides you might like it. It might . . . spice things up a little bit.” Ian grinned hands inching towards Mickey’s backside.

“We fucked on a twenty thousand dollar rug last night and my thighs are redder than my dick was, the last thing we need is to spice things up. I want my hair Ian.” He whined.

“It’s not permanent! And I promise I’ll make it up to you, anything you want. Please Mick, I have to do this.”

His green eyes quickly became gentle and soft desperately begging to be given into. It was really annoying. Mickey used to be able to say no to anyone at about anything. It was a specialty of his, one of the most common words in his vocabulary even right next to fuck. Then this ginger dick that wasn’t even going to be ginger anymore had to go and ruin that.

“Jesus Christ whatever get the hell off me you giant.”

Ian smiled leaning in to give Mickey a kiss that had him struggling to remember his name let alone what he’d been so mad twenty seconds ago.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

Mickey was sitting in his seat fiddling with his suit when he got a text from Ian to telling him to stop fiddling with his suit. But when he looked around it impossible that Ian could even see him, so he told him to fuck off and went back to looking around. Everyone around him screamed pretentious. He didn’t know who was a designer and who was just somebody who knew somebody who got them there and quite frankly he didn’t give a fuck. He was there for one reason and one reason only, and if it weren’t for the fact that Ian had multiple outfits in the show he’d had left the second Ian left the stage. Ian had a habit of reading his mind like an open fucking book though and he’d shot that down instantly.

“And don’t you leave that seat until the show is over Mickey. I have multiple outfits and I want you to see them all, and you gotta take pictures so don’t fuck up my camera.” He’d said.

As if Mickey didn’t buy the damn thing. He found it funny that everyone called him a bossy bottom when in all reality Ian was the bossiest damn top he’d ever met. The things you do for love.

Every now and again someone would catch sight of his tattoos and give him that look of distain that said he was trash. He didn’t mind it anymore, he was pretty used to it, and after years of being out of the ghetto it even felt kind of good to get that look every now and again. There was a whole lot of not talking English and even more talking in English very badly leaving Mickey to check his watch every few minutes waiting for the show start. But when it did everyone seemed to lose their fucking minds. Except Mickey, no he’d save that for when his ginger giant came on stage.

Ian on the other hand was backstage and nervous as all fuck. He kept watching guy after guy disappear in the dark abyss of the curtains stepping into their spotlights ready to put on a show. He couldn’t see the audience from his place backstage so there was no Mickey there to calm him down. He suddenly wished he had invited someone else just to make sure Mickey didn’t ditch the entire thing. The thunderous applause of the audience was almost too much ringing heavily in his ears and making him squirm.

Then all of sudden he was being pushed into the abyss and into the spotlight with no time to worry anymore. His head just kind of shuts off and he’s walking and people are clapping and there’s whistling and he thinks he hears Mickey call out to him but he doesn’t even let himself start to think about that. And when he doesn’t think it’s fun. It’s all lights and feeding off this idea of people looking at his body. It’s all of the fun of his club days without the ounces of regret later. He feels almost invincible when he’s up there. Free in a way he can only truly achieve when doing something that he loves. Without time left to think of all the things that could go wrong he just does the damn thing and it leaves him satisfied, fulfilled.

When it’s over everyone feels relieved, the models crowding together to wish each other congratulations. Ian hugged all these people he’d been working with for weeks to create this amazing moment on stage. Once it was over he felt relieved, but also like he did everything that he could which felt better than any of the free shit he’d been given for being there. And at the end of it there was this tiny little man waiting for him with a camera in one hand and his thumb on the other swiping deliciously across his bottom lip. Mickey was in the suit that Ian had picked out for him and it was even better than he’d imagined. His boyfriend was sexy. Sexier than any of models surrounding them and he felt the sudden need to lay claim on the cute little artist with the fuck U-Up tattoos.

“Don’t tell me runway gets you goin too Gallagher.” Mickey smirked pulling away from Ian’s lips.

Ian shook his head. “Nope just you. You get me goin.”

“Yea well you looked pretty fucking good up there.”

“That your Milkovich way of telling me I looked pretty?”

Mickey shrugged his shoulder looking around for people that could be staring at them. It was something he did subconsciously, still feeling the need to look over his shoulder just in case Terry somehow managed to find him or anyone else that represented that idea of fear.

“You . . . you know you looked incredible Ian.” He mumbled fiddling with the camera. “You did incredible alright?”

Ian bit his lip reaching to engross his boyfriend in his arms.

“Thank you for coming. I love you so much Mickey.” He murmured.

“Yea I love you too. Hair looks good too, surprisingly enough.”

“Yea still tuggable?”

Mickey grinned reaching up to get a firm grip. “Hmm I’ll manage.”

“You think you can manage tonight? We still have a couple pieces of furniture in our room we haven’t fucked on yet.”

Mickey was about to respond when his boyfriend was yanked from his arms by a bitchy Russian in six inch heels.

“Orange boy you come with me. Designers like dark hair I might just have more work for you.” She demanded.

“B—But Mickey.” He whined reached around her for his boyfriend’s hand.

“You and angry bottom rub dicks together when you are not on clock.”

“Ian I’ve never come so close to hitting a woman in my entire life.” Mickey muttered.

“Don’t worry I wait for you to get ladder so you can reach.” She grinned.

Mickey clenched his fists and Ian quickly went to get in the middle of the two before he had to bust his boyfriend out of French prison for fist fighting a woman. 

“Fine I do whatever small talk you want then I’m taking my boyfriend to the Eiffel tower so let’s hurry this up.”

“For the seven hundredth fucking time I am not going to Eiffel tower!”

Oh what a joy it was to be done working.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

“Mickey stand still or the picture won’t come out right.” Ian groaned bumping hips with his boyfriend. “Sorry sir.”

There they were at the fucking Eiffel tower getting their picture taken by some smelly French men with a beard and Ian had the nerve to be unhappy with Mickey’s pose for the damn thing.

“You’re not gonna get me to look happy in this shitty picture.” He insisted.

Ian just grinned turning Mickey to face him and taking that adorably grumpy face in his hands to kiss him in front of the Eiffel tower.

“Ahhh thank you sir.” He smiled taking the camera back. “This is gonna be our Christmas card Mick! Now let’s go I miss the city.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “You dragged me all the way here for a fucking picture? You don’t even wanna go up the damn thing?”

“Well yea, I wouldn’t wanna make you do something you don’t wanna do.” Ian smirked.

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“I know, I love you too babe come on.” He insisted intertwining their fingers and leading Mickey towards the cabs.

It was easily one of the best weekends of Ian’s entire life. He’d managed to get five different designers that wanted to look into him for future projects just from the one show alone. Svetlana let him go off and be with his man just so she didn’t have to hear him whine the entire time leaving him to get an adorable picture of him enthusiastically kissing a visibly grumpy Mickey in front of the Eiffel tower. And above all else he got closer to understanding how much Mickey loved and cared for him. The entire weekend was just the two of them with no interruptions, besides the show of course, and it kind of allowed them to learn more about each other and experiment with that unwavering love that they both felt.

Mickey was getting more comfortable letting Ian in and letting him see all the pieces of him that were still a little broken, maybe even letting him begin to fix them. Ian on the other hand was learning to let Mickey in in a different way. It wasn’t the sharing his feelings part that scared him, so much as the relying on anyone for anything. Mickey would promise to wake him up in the morning and he’d struggle not to set an alarm just in case. It was the reminder from someone besides himself to take his meds, and the warm arms engulfing him when the shivers rocked his core. He was falling so deep with Mickey, that this idea of letting someone care, letting them take care of it him was terrifying of course but also a little enticing. He didn’t know that Mickey’s loyalty was about to be put to the test, he just knew that he loved him, and that maybe Mickey loved him enough not to walk away.

They made their way back to New York collapsing in bed together with soft kisses and shockingly warm caresses. Ian fell asleep happy and content, feeling more stable than he’d ever felt in his whole life. But the next morning when he woke up he couldn’t get out of bed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even pull the blankets over himself. He stared at the wall with dead eyes with no desire to do or say anything, which was all fine and well. That is until Mickey woke up.

“Hey sleeping beauty don’t you usually get up before the ass crack of dawn?” He chuckled stretching himself out.

Ian just kept staring out their window not a word coming out of his mouth. Mickey sighed snuggling closer to his boyfriend and slipping his fingers down to the front of his boxers.

“You wanna do somethin’ before work?” Mickey whispered nose trailing the length of Ian’s neck.

Usually it was an automatic response, the twitching of his hips or the pulse of blood from his dick. Mickey quickly noticed that for the first time since . . . well ever his boyfriend just wasn’t into it.

“Or not. We don’t have to. Uh you wanna shower?”

When Ian didn’t respond again Mickey just figured he was still tired from their weekend and probably wanted to sleep in some more.

“Okay….I’ll shower first. Wake you up after.”

It wasn’t often that Mickey woke up before Ian, well actually he couldn’t remember a time where that’d happened before ever, but he didn’t focus on it too much. He took his shower thinking about the day ahead of him. He had a lot of plans for stuff he wanted to try out with paint that day. He thought about trying to make breakfast for the two of them although it would probably result in a small fire. It didn’t occur to him that things were actually out of the ordinary until he crawled back into bed and went to wrap his body around his boyfriend’s who began to cry at his touch.

Ian shoved roughly at Mickey leaving him to nearly fall off the bed before rolling over and shoving his face into the pillow to hide his sobs. It was overwhelming to say the least, terrifying because he still didn’t get it.

“W—What’d I do?” He mumbled trying not to show how hurt he was from the rejection.

And there’s nothing. The silences is so loud, it’s uncomfortable against Mickey’s ears and he finds himself groveling, so desperate for things to be okay.

“Ian get up man. Please? Ian just fucking get up alright! Please, get up!”

“Go away Mickey!” He cried.

Those words were what made it click, like a trigger snapping his brain into place and making everything come together. Ian not wanting him. Ian pushing him away. He’d never seen it so prevalent before, had only gotten a small glimpse of the hysteria that could take place when Ian hit a low point. Now it was here, and it was deep and it was thick, and who knew if he would be able to deal with it, if he would even want to. All Mickey knew was that he was scared and worried and upset. It angered him to be helpless, to not be able to take care of Ian the way that he wanted to.

“Ian, Ian you gotta listen to me this isn’t you. This is the disorder talking. Did you take your meds?”

“Please, please go away.”

And his voice sounds so incomprehensibly sad that Mickey listens backing away towards their door and leaving him be. He had absolutely no clue what to do. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing you called the police for seeing as how Ian didn’t seem suicidal. Mickey had no contact with Ian’s therapist which seemed stupid as fuck now that he might actually need it. He was horrified, only noticing that his fingers were trembling when he reached for a cigarette. His entire body was on edge. He couldn’t keep his eyes off their room for more than a couple seconds, terrified that something might happen to his Ian. He just didn’t know what to do.

“Yo dickface you back from Paris yet?” Mandy giggled pleasantly into the phone.

“I need your fucking help.”

His voice cracks and shudders confirming the fear that eats away at him inside. Ian’s not okay, and Ian not being okay makes Mickey not okay, so he needs someone to make it better. It all feels so overwhelming to him. He hadn’t dealt with it last time; Ian had just cried into his chest and then swiftly kicked him out of his apartment. He had been angry and hurt and focused so harshly on himself. Now he just felt scared. Scared that Ian wasn’t gonna snap out of it. Scared that Ian would never remember that he loved him. Scared that he wasn’t strong enough to make Ian better again. It was too much to handle alone.

Mandy was out of her apartment seconds later taking the stairs two at a time to get to her brother. He hadn’t told her anything and quite frankly she didn’t need to hear shit. All she knew was that things weren’t okay and Mickey needed her help. So she let herself into her brother’s apartment and found him sitting on the couch palms shoved painfully into his eyes like he was trying to shove the water back inside. Only one thing had ever made her brother look like that.

“Mickey where’s Ian?” She asked hesitantly.

The only thing she could envision was Ian running off with some model in extremely tight pants. And that was not sitting well once so ever. Mickey shoved his thumb back towards the bedroom he shared with Ian inhaling smoke religiously. She headed towards the room to see the familiar Ian size lump in the covers.

“Shit.” She mumbled. “Ian? Ian you okay?”

“FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

Mickey stared at the door way biting down furiously on his lip and blinking back tears. Mandy had fixed it last time. She had been the one that forced Ian out of bed, made him get out of his own head and get back to life. If she couldn’t fix it what was he going to do? Who was gonna make Ian okay again?

“What the fuck do we do?” He mumbled to Mandy.

“We gotta get him help Mick.”

He rolled his eyes. “Good fucking job genius how are we supposed to do that?”

“Hey don’t get pissy at me I’m scared too dickhead. Call his therapist; she’ll know what to do.”

“You’re on a roll Mandy I mean I don’t know how you do it. I never thought to call the fucking therapist I’ll get right on that….Oh wait that’s right I don’t have her fucking number!” He screamed.

He couldn’t sit still any longer. Mandy watched him pace across the room smoking cigarette after cigarette and tugging at his hair as he tried not to cry. She’d never seen him so scared before without their father holding some form of physical or emotional abuse above his head. Now here they were just to find out the only other thing in the world that could scare him that badly was Ian Gallagher. Go fucking figure.

“I—I’ll stay with him you take his phone and find the number.” Mickey nodded trying harder to convince himself than Mandy.

She bit her lip sympathetically. “Okay, uh what’s his password?”

“It’s my fucking birthday.” And there was almost the familiar tug at the corners of his mouth.

Mandy found it ridiculously adorable that he not only knew his boyfriend’s password but that that particular password happened to be his birthday. She made sure to store that for later when things would be happy again and she could tease them about it, because if she didn’t she was afraid she might cry too.

Mickey made his way slowly back into the room taking a seat by the wall so he could keep an eye on Ian. Every nerve ending within his body was telling him to go to him, to touch him and hold him and rock him back and forth. But the rejection from earlier weighed heavily on his mind and he stayed put. Memories of months without Ian were playing in the deep corners of his mind. The sound of Ian’s voice saying he didn’t want him. The burning sensation in his chest from where Ian had pushed him away. The way his heart broke so roughly when the redhead began to cry. He felt very secure in the fact that he fucking sucked. What could he do to stop it? How was he ever gonna feel like he was worthy of Gallagher if he couldn’t even get him to snap out of being sad?

“Mick?” Mandy called hesitantly.

Ian was staring at the wall and Mickey was staring at Ian staring at the wall. The entire scene was incredibly sad and heart wrenching.

“Dr. Wonder wants us to bring him in as soon as possible. I called for a cab do you . . . you want me to help?”

Mickey just shakes his head numbly because it irritates him that he needs Mandy help at all. He slid from his position on the floor fingers touching Ian for the first time and he didn’t know how he’d ever let go again. Ian had never looked so fragile, so brittle as if there was already a crack in his flimsy shell. And all Mickey wanted was to take care of him, to make everything better. And it was overwhelming and it was scary, but for the first time in his life Mickey felt up for the challenge. He felt like he didn’t have to run away and wait for something good to happen. He wanted to fix it himself, he just didn’t know how.

Ian let his body be pulled into a sitting position as Mickey pulled clothes onto him with sad, jerky movements. He saw everything happening, could see the pain in Mickey’s features, but was unable to move past his own self-loathing to understand what that meant. He didn’t know that he was hurting Mickey, didn’t know that every second he sat unable to open his mouth and speak was killing Mickey.

“You gotta get the fuck up now I can’t carry you Ian.” He spat.

Ian flinched at his words but thankfully wasn’t at a point in his episode where being yelled at couldn’t do any damage. He was too numb.

“You’re crying.” He said and it definitely wasn’t a question.

“Yea well I want my fucking boyfriend back so let’s go see if this fucking doctor can find him.”

It takes a lot of tugging and at one point Mickey almost lashes out and hits him, but he manages to get Ian off the bed. Mandy stands their waiting and they struggle together to get the long limbed man down the elevator and into the cab awaiting them. All of the walking just zaps away Ian’s energy though and he collapses into Mickey with soft snores bubbling through his lips. Mickey can’t help but reach down and grip the hair that he loved so much even if it was a darker shade. He thought that maybe if he held on Ian would come back to him and everything would be okay. He didn’t know what he would do otherwise.

*                                                                             *                                                                                                             *

 

“How fucking long can it really take we’ve been here for four hours!” Mickey hissed earing a few glares from other patients.

Mandy sighed. “I don’t think it really works that way Mick, it takes time. This is a disease we’re talking about.”

Something about that hits home for Mickey and he finds himself struggling to breath. It hurts. It settles right there in the pit of his chest and chokes him relentlessly till he feels the burn of tears coming to the surface. He swallowed roughly wiping his hands against his face to calm himself.

“I—I wanna see him. When do I get to see him?” He mumbled.

She sat her magazine aside rubbing her brother’s arm comfortingly. “I’ll go ask, here read about the latest gossip in Hollywood while I’m gone.”

He doesn’t smile, can’t even imagine the corner of his lips even twitching until he knows Gallagher’s alright. Mandy got up and headed to talk to the receptionist leaving Mickey to chew at his lip nervously. He felt bad for dragging her into his shit, for being too weak to handle anything on his own. It’d been four hours and Mandy had kept it together for the both of them, because he was useless. Every time one of the doors would open and a patient who had come in after them would walk out and his heart would break just that little bit more. Mickey’s knowledge of Ian’s disorder was still incredibly fuzzy, so for all he knew they were fucking giving him electroshock therapy or something else fucked up. It drove him crazy to not know and to not be able to hold Ian. He’d told him he wouldn’t walk away and not being there just felt like letting him down.

“Mickey, Dr. Wonder wants to talk to you for a little bit. It’s about Ian.”

He looked up stumbling quickly out of his seat to see a woman standing by Mandy. He’d never formally met her and hadn’t actually planned on it, but he’d never been so grateful for someone’s existence in his whole life. Except for Gallagher’s. Fuck he missed Gallagher.

“It’s okay I don’t bite.” She smiled sincerely.

He followed her into a room with a standard chair and desk looking more like the audience for the main show. There was a big brown leather couch set at the front of the room; and Mickey quickly noticed that his big pile of ginger wasn’t sitting on it. His eyes roamed the room for any sign of Ian, and when they came up missing he was surprised by how quickly panic overtook him.

“Where the fuck is Ian?” He nearly cried.

She responded normally, like Mickey hadn’t talk at her more than to her.

“Ian’s in another room right now. We do this from time to time when he goes into an episode seeing as how he doesn’t have any family down here. Well didn’t.” She smiled. “Please have a seat.”

“Shouldn’t he be fucking supervised or something?”

“Mr. Milkovich I can assure you he is safe. It’s just a room with a couch just like this one. He’s too tired to do anything but lie there right now. That’s why I wanna spend some time talking to you.”

He raised an eyebrow taking the seat that he’d been offered hesitantly. She was sitting in her chair in some expensive ass pant suit with her dark brown hair lying messily at her neck. Something about her seemed a little corky, a little too bright to be a therapist. He wondered what was so great about her that made Ian trust her, if he should trust her.

“This is your first time dealing with one of these moods correct?”

And there’s something about her voice, something hypnotic and . . . caring. But Milkovichs don’t do therapy, so he knows how to reflect it easily. The problem is that he’s not there for himself; he’s there for Ian which means being a smartass isn’t really an option.

He nods hesitantly. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Of course. Ian’s been stable for almost four whole years now. He just has what we like to call hiccups. It just means that this disorder isn’t something that goes away, it’s something he will have to deal with for the rest of his life but it is manageable and most of the time he’s able to genuinely feel happy and content. How much do you know about Ian’s disease Mickey?”

“I don’t know, not much I guess. I know what meds he takes, and that he gets it from his mom but the med talk was too complicated. He just told me he goes up and he goes down, but that the meds keep that in check.”

She smiled at him again and he didn’t know how he felt about that quite yet.

“That’s a good way to describe it. It’s basically him going all the way up on a roller coaster and then plummeting down and when we’re dealing with his particular type of bipolar disorder it sometimes includes this thing called rapid cycling. That’s like the rollercoaster going up and down and up and down over and over again. What you saw this morning was a depressive episode. Those are the low lows when it’s hard to get out of bed, when he loses interest in his favorite activities, maybe he’s not able to have or enjoy sexual intercourse. And you did the right thing. You called for help and that’s amazing because this can be overwhelming and a lot to handle, and I bet you that when Ian stabilizes he’s gonna be super grateful to have a boyfriend like you.”

Mickey felt his face burn at the praise deepening in his ears. It felt good to be reassured by a professional that he hadn’t fucked everything up, but he’d still much rather talk about Ian than himself. He noticed that his body doesn’t even tense at being called boyfriend anymore, and feels like he’s making progress.

“So what do you want from me?” He asked.

“Well if he’s hitting a low point right now chances are he was manic and you didn’t realize. That’s normal though; it’s very easy to write mania off as just being upbeat especially when his meds dilute it a little bit. I wanna help you recognize the warning signs, come up with a plan for the next time it happens, help you be able to help him. You’re a very important piece to his mental health now, Mickey.”

His eyes widened a little bit at her words. He’d never been important to anyone. He’d always just fallen somewhere at the bottom of the list, fending for himself, caring for himself and no one else. But now he had Ian. And Ian was strong and amazing and totally capable of handling himself, but sometimes he would need help. It clicked for Mickey that he could help, could be some kind of shoulder to lean on when things got rough. All he had to do was learn some fucking warning signs and pay attention to his boyfriend big fucking whoop. It almost didn’t seem fair, that he got off so easy while Ian was in pain, so he assured himself that he wasn’t gonna let him down. Ever.

When she explained it things slowly start clicking together. Late night/early morning workouts. Wanting to go four and five rounds in the sack (Mickey was used to their normal three and was always ready to pass out after) to all of a sudden completely freezing up if Mickey even touched him. Random fucking ideas that required their entire life savings. Even the way his eyes would sometime darken and then lighten all within the time frame of two minutes. The signs were there and he definitely noticed them, just didn’t know what the fuck they meant. She told him how Ian’s episodes were always pretty short, but that it could be worse if he didn’t take his meds. At the end of the day it was a constant waiting game, no one knew when he would stabilize, and she used that word instead of snap out of it because apparently that was indecent to say, so they just had to wait.

“So what I . . . I take him home let him sit in bed for days?” He asked, confused.

“I recommend the first day that it hits taking it easy and then slowly trying to work him back into his routine. That’s why we built it, so that his body became used to it and things would be easier. Try and get him to eat something simple like soup or fruit, some water ya know? Make sure he takes his meds that’s the most important part.” She explained.

“What if he…”

“If he yells at you? Tells you to go away?”

He hung his head nodding slowly not wanting to show how badly the reminder pained him.

“It will take time but it’s important to know that his actions as this point do not reflect how he actually feels towards you. It’s okay to give him space and you definitely shouldn’t neglect your own life, but show that you’re there for him, that he’s not in it alone. It helps I promise.”

When she finished explaining she handed Mickey all these pamphlets and resource packets. She’d printed out Ian’s emergency plan and all the information she had on what he wanted to happen when he wasn’t himself. She told him, that Ian had given the okay a while ago for Mickey to be in on everything, and that just made him feel like maybe he could really take care of his adorable idiot. It was a lot to go through, but it felt worth it if it meant taking care of Ian.

Ian was sleeping when she finally took Mickey to him. The large couch should’ve barely contained him, but he lie balled up rigidly at the top of it. Mickey took a seat running his fingers soothingly up and down the length of his arm needing to touch him again. It’d been a rough fucking day and he kind of didn’t mind if Gallagher wanted to sleep for the next two days, he just needed to get him home.

“Hey, come on we gotta go home.” He murmured touching burnt auburn hair.

It was a little easier to get him up that time, but Mickey couldn’t tell if it was because he was getting better or just too tired to argue. He and Mandy ended up dragging seven feet of pale ass legs to another cab where he fell immediately asleep into Mickey’s side looking as exhausted as Mickey felt.

“How’d it go?” She asked hesitantly from the front seat.

He didn’t move his eyes from Ian’s face still clutching desperately at his flimsy fingers.

“A lot of information at once. We’ll be okay though. We’ll be fine.” He muttered.

She had no doubt in her mind that Mickey was right. They drove back to their apartment with Ian snoring and Mickey playing with long white fingers wishing desperately that they were already in bed. Just one day at a time right?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did as much research as i could when writing this chapter but it should definitely be know that i am no expert in bipolar disorder or what a professional would actually recommend in this situation, but i hope it came across as authentic as possible. Any critiques and comments are welcomed and appreciated as always :)


	15. Yevgeny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a Milkovich tradition to watch cartoons on the weekend. He’d insisted that it was to keep his artistic childish wisdom thriving to get Ian the hell off his back but they both knew he just loved his cartoons. So when Ian was nowhere to be found he made his plate and went to plop down on the couch and relax. That’s when he saw . . . it.  
> “Who the fuck are you?” Mickey gasped immediately confused.  
> Yevgeny eyes widened. “Ooooo you said a bad word you gotta put a dollar in the swear jar!”  
> “IAN FUCKING GALLAGHER!!!!!”  
> “That’s another dollar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the disappointment that was 5x11 in terms of Ian just being completely disrespected and overlooked and devalued by the fucking writers of this show i had to do something to make me feel a little better so i am posting this. Tbh i'm 22(23 after breaking up chapter 12) chapters in with this story and i just don't know how i want it to end quite yet. If you have suggestions tho please leave em in the comments i'd love to know where you guys are at with the story.  
> I also couldn't not have Yevgeny in the story? Obviously things are different than the show in this aspect but i really like the idea of Miceky bonding with a human that isn't Ian over fucking Ninja Turtles and that human happens to be a 6 year old? I couldn't resist.

When Ian woke up to take his meds he almost didn’t remember what had happened. He always felt like his mood drops were a kind of haze that fogged up his brain making everything cloudy and hard to distinguish. The last few days had been hard enough and then he just felt exhausted from the darkness plaguing his body. It wasn’t till he stood in front of the mirror ready to pop his usual dosage of pills that the memories started coming back. Mickey’s face. Laura talking him down from the edge. Mickey blinking back tears. Mandy bringing him soup. Mickey. Mickey. Mickey.

He stumbled out of the bathroom to see that their bed was empty which wasn’t a good sign. He couldn’t remember a time where they hadn’t slept in the same bed since he moved in. Now he’d gone and fucked it all up with his stupid fucking brain. His heart was already managing to thump unevenly, and he had no clue what he would do if Mickey had left, if it had all become too much. Time seemed to slow his skin suddenly feeling ice cold. He could feel his heart in his throat choking him with fear. Their kitchen was empty, as was the living room though they were practically one anyway. The couch had no blanket and the blinds on their windows were open letting sunshine leak slowly through. Ian didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He was having difficulties swallowing when he heard the familiar sounds of cuss words coming from Mickey’s studio.

The door was cracked open and Mickey was sitting on his favorite chair mixing colors on his palette and complaining about the color not being completely right. Ian had never felt so relieved in all of his life.

“Mickey?” He called hesitantly fingers twitching at his sides.

Ian wanted to hold him, to be held by him and assured that no matter what he would always have the warmth of his arms available to him. He’d never felt so vulnerable and open to Mickey before, and he wanted that reassurance that nothing had changed and they were alright. Mickey turned to stare at Ian eyes widening immediately at his presence. Ian saw the hesitation as Mickey took him in waiting for another yesterday, a sign that the darkness was still sucking him under.

“I’m okay….promise.” Ian mumbled.

“Jesus Christ Ian.” Mickey breathed stumbling out of his seat.

He instantly thawed taking Ian into his arms and holding on for dear life. It felt like he hadn’t seen Ian in days and in all reality he hadn’t, not his Ian anyway. It’d been almost four days of bringing food to the side of the bed and just begging him to eat, to drink something and hoping that just maybe he’d get out of bed. And now there he was talking and standing and breathing and looking _alive_. Mickey had struggled to keep himself together every day since, but he quickly turned into a blubbering mess now that it was all set and done.

“You scared the shit out of me dickhead.” He whispered shakily.

Ian’s arms tightened around him in response. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry I should’ve warned you. I thought you were gonna run away and you didn’t. You’re here right now.”

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easy. I missed you.”

Mickey pulled back slightly taking Ian’s face in his hands and biting his lip. He was beautiful and vulnerable and scared and Mickey loved him more than anything in the world. It felt so agonizingly good to know that he was safe in every sense of the word. He’d done it. He’d taken care of him, and made sure he made it through the fucking storm and now here they were on the other side all rainbows and puddles and shit. He kissed him lovingly and passionately, trying so hard to fit in every feeling that he had for this kid who scared the living shit out of him on a daily basis. It wasn’t teeth and sucking but it was gentle. It was Mickey taking all of Ian’s fear away and giving him what he needed to be okay. It was also just his way of saying wow I fucking love you and nothing you ever do is gonna stop that.

“I gotta go to work Mick Svetlana’s probably ready to kill me.” He grinned staring into Mickey’s eyes.

“Like fuck you have to. I already called and cleared your schedule for the week. She said health comes first. You’re staying with me you got it?”

Ian smiled big and annoyingly causing Mickey’s heart to stutter.

“Okay.”

“Go take a fucking shower jackass you smell like road kill.” He chuckled shoving him playfully.

The second he’s not touching Mickey though his world feels empty, and Ian’s had a few too many empty nights at this point. He wrapped his arms tightly around Mickey’s waist keeping him right where he belonged, with him.

“Will you scrub my back for me? I can never reach.” Ian mumbled like a small child nuzzling his head into Mickey’s.

Mickey knew he was lying considering one of his arms was nearly the length of Mickey’s leg, but he was feeling surprisingly up for entertaining the romantic shit that came out of his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Yea sure. Just promise me something first.”

“Anything.” He said simply.

“Just . . . you gotta stick around okay? Cause I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ian bit his lip nodding softly.

“Alright. I promise. As long as you promise the same.”

“I promise.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Mickey didn’t treat Ian like he was broken, and that was the best feeling in the world. As soon as he was sure that the man wasn’t going to slip into bed for another five days he was perfectly acceptable with moving forward. They spent the day in bed with tv and pizza and sex. At first Mickey assumed they were just gonna take it easy, but then a car insurance commercial came on and for some reason Ian had to have Mickey’s dick in his mouth that very second. They flowed easily, moving from shitty comedy to shitty comedy to soppy drama between sloppy blow jobs and lazy stroking. It was kind of the best day ever. Ian was back and healthy and that’s kind of all that fucking mattered in the world. Eventually Mandy came over and the dicks had to be put away so she could crawl into bed and snuggle up to Ian.

Mickey grunted. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Snuggling with your boyfriend.” She taunted with raised eyebrows.

“Mick there’s plenty of room right here.”

Ian smiled raising his arm and letting his grumpy boyfriend move to rest his head on Ian’s chest. He propped his thigh over Ian’s hip like he always did but this time was met with Mandy’s knee cap keeping him from getting comfortable.

“Move your fucking leg bitch.” He spat.

“No I’m comfortable you move!”

“It’s my own fucking bed and my own fucking boyfriend and you don’t even live here anymore! Get your little bony ass knee off his cock before I punch you in the tit again!”

Meanwhile Ian was smiling as the two most adorable and angry people he’d ever met in his entire life. Then they had to go and start trying to shove each other’s knees away resulting in a weird friction that felt way too close to a threesome with his boyfriend’s sister for him to feel comfortable with.

“Hey you guys could you stop jerking me off with your knee caps, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Oh shit ew I’m going to get a beer you two fuck heads are annoying the hell out of me and I’ve been here five minutes.” Mandy whined crawling out of bed.

“You better not be even remotely hard Gallagher or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Ian just chuckled rolling over on top of his boyfriend.

“I missed your angriness. It’s one of my favorite things about you ya know?” He murmured pressing a kiss to Mickey’s lips.

“Yea well your taste is minimal at best. Before me you were fucking grandpas in retirement homes.”

Ian was too happy to be offended he just hid his face in Mickey’s neck shaking uncontrollably with laughter. Mickey gave a chuckle of his own running his fingers through auburn hair and squeezing firmly. By the time Mandy got back things had calmed down enough for the two not to go at each other’s throats for ten minutes. A little peace never hurt anyone.

“Speaking of birthdays,” Mandy noted from the terrible rom-com they were watching. “What are we gonna do for your birthday?”

“Mickey’s gonna get me a puppy and we’re gonna make love in the middle of the living room floor with lots of candles and smooth jazz.” Ian grained.

Mandy laughed causing Mickey to scowl.

“That’s so perfectly specific it’s not even funny.”

“Kiss my ass.” Mickey muttered.

“Babe not while your sister’s here it’s indecent.” He laughed. “I don’t know maybe just go to a club with the guys from work? Relive my dancing days a little bit.”

“If you think I’m gonna sit back and watch you bump and grind with some bitch from a Gucci ad you’re out of your fucking mind.”

“I only wanna bump and grind with you cranky. I’m about to be twenty-four and old like you let me enjoy my youth Mick.”

“Hmmmm….  At least the birthday sex should be quite interesting.”

“EWWWWWWW.” Mandy whined.

“Oh you think you could hear us when he first moved in you just wait sis.” Mickey snickered evilly.

“Using my dick to upset your sister . . . it’s kinky, I like it.”

“Yea? You see anything else you like?”

Ian raised an eyebrow leaning in to kiss Mickey roughly eliciting a gagging noise from Mandy.

“I miss the days when you were uncomfortable with your sexuality dammit.”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

“Hey.” Mickey mumbled nudging Mandy softly.

They were in the kitchen getting more snacks for the full fledge sleepover taking place in Ian and Mickey’s bedroom.

“What?”

“Find out what he really wants to do for his birthday. Whatever he wants alright? I’ll pay for it.”

Mandy gave that smile she always gave when she realized her brother was in a loving and healthy relationship.

“When did you become such a big spender huh?”

He shrugged. “Since I had someone to spend it on alright? We just got out of the hole with that bullshit; I want him to have a good birthday. Just help me out okay?”

“Okay Mickey Mouse we’ll figure something out jeez you’re such a sap these days.”

“Who’s a sap?” He growled twisting her nipple sharply.

“OWWWWWW YOU FUCKER!”

“Miiiiiiiiick stop twisting your sister’s nipples it’s rude!” Ian called in a bored tone.

“Not my fault the bitch doesn’t ever wear a bra.” Mickey smirked barely dodging the box of poptarts she threw at his head.

He could practically hear his favorite treat crumbling to pieces.

“GODDAMMIT! IAN SHE THREW MY FUCKING POPTARTS!”

Ian smiled from his spot in their room hoping he’d always be around to deal with the two bickering siblings. It kind of sucked that just weeks before his birthday his body decided to remind him of his disease, but he tried to remain on the positive side of things. With Mickey and Mandy and the other models who didn’t mind going to spin classes with him when Mickey cussed him out and went back to bed. He was thankful for Svetlana and his family though things weren’t completely smoothed over there yet, either. He’d be a twenty-four year old pretty successful model with a successful artist of a boyfriend whom he lived with how terrible could life really be? There was a time in his life, before the meds and the therapy where he wasn’t sure if he’d make it to twenty-four, if he wanted to make it twenty-four. Now he felt like every moment was worth living.

Later that night after a movie marathon and takeout Chinese, Mandy had snuck back to her apartment for sleep leaving Ian and Mickey to be encapsulated in the dark alone.

Ian rolled over letting his fingers slip up Mickey’s sides hesitantly.

“Are you awake?” He whispered.

“No.” Mickey mumbled before huffing. “What is it Gallagher?”

Ian pressed his face into Mickey’s back letting his body wrap slowly around him.

“Just wanted to say thanks for taking care of me. You’re really something.” He mumbled kissing his back.

Mickey stayed quiet for a few minutes trying to figure out what he wanted to say through the haze of sleep. For a second Ian thought he wouldn’t say anything back, yet he voice finally managed to come out hallow and quiet in the dark of their room.

“I gotta take care of you Ian. I need you. I’m too selfish, so don’t you fucking go anywhere.”

Ian smiles so hard it hurts before cuddling up to his boyfriend where he belongs.

“I won’t.”

And Mickey believes him, but he holds him a little tighter that night just in case.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Ian woke up the next morning to a very frantic Russian woman yelling words into his phone in a language he didn’t understand.

“Lana calm down, I don’t understand you, literally, let’s try a different language.” He yawned slipping out of bed carefully so he couldn’t wake Mickey.

“Stupid fucking American girl tells me she cannot babysit. No one to watch Yevgeny means I cannot go to meeting for your next project. Big move.”

Ian sighed. “Maybe you could take him with you?”

“No I am professional baby cannot come with me.” She insisted. “You watch baby. You are the only one I trust. You come from big family yes?”

“Oh god Lana, Mickey’s never gonna let me watch a baby here. He’ll probably growl at him.”

“He growls at my Yevgeny and I cut angry bottom’s dick off and shove it up anus right where he likes it. You watch baby, I go to meeting. End of discussion. Text me address.”

She hung up before Ian could say another word. That’s just kind of how Svetlana was, always getting what she wanted. Ian owed her for his entire career, from his first shitty ad in some wannabe walmart campaign to fashion week. He’d probably do just about anything for her. There was also a very grumpy midget in the next room over that he’d do just about anything for, and he was kind of in love with that midget. He stalked off to the kitchen with a tiny groan knowing a huge breakfast was in order to get his boyfriend not to kick his ass.

Svetlana arrived as Ian was finishing the first round of pancakes. The second he opened the door only person he knew that was shorter than Mickey came bustling in wrapping his arms around Ian’s legs.

“Ian! I lost a new tooth, look look look!” Yev screamed.

“That’s great buddy.” Ian smiled patting his head. “Wow you’ll have all your adult teeth in no time!”

Svetlana had barely been pregnant with Yev by the time they met which meant he got to kind of watch the squirt grow up. When she first became his manager she wasn’t very experienced at all and Yev would often times end up going on rides with them to different shoots and stuff. There had even been a time when Ian had been manic and ended up jumping around in the snow in nothing but a tank top and boxers and getting hypothermia. They’d called Lana because he had no one else and he and Yev had hot chocolate together. Now he was a little man with all his missing teeth.

“You want pancakes?”

“Chocolate chip?”

Ian smirked. “Is there any other kind?”

“YAY!”

Svetlana smiled watching her son skip off to go watch the cartoons that Ian had put on for him. When Ian stood up she fixed him with a hard glare that could only mean she really cared.

“You hurt a hair on my son’s head I bash you and boyfriend’s heads in with one of my stilettos. Understand?”

Ian smiled warmly. “I got him, promise. Go find me some work huh?”

“Yea, okay . . . You alright now?” She asked referring to Ian’s recent need to take some time off.

He nodded. “My boyfriend took good care of me. He’s pretty nice when you get to know him, kinda like you actually.”

“You call next time it is over so I know that you are okay. I need to know.” She murmured touching his cheek lightly.

She left then, leaving Ian to stare at the spot where she’d just been. Svetlana didn’t like to show that she cared; you just kind of had to know it. But every now and again she’d slip giving a little taste of her feelings and it was always worth it.

“Ian I think something’s on fire, it stinks.” Yevgeny called from the living room.

“Oh shit not again.”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Mickey woke up feeling finally refreshed. Sleeping while Ian was in his episode had been nearly impossible, so he welcomed the sleep that came when it was over. Smells of pancakes and fresh coffee wafted into the room and his stomach growled immediately. Firecrotch’s cooking was practically wifey material, not that he’d ever tell him that. He stumbled out of bed in search of food finding his coffee already poured and made the way he liked it. Damn he loved Ian.

It was a Milkovich tradition to watch cartoons on the weekend. He’d insisted that it was to keep his artistic childish wisdom thriving to get Ian the hell off his back but they both knew he just loved his cartoons. So when Ian was nowhere to be found he made his plate and went to plop down on the couch and relax. That’s when he saw . . . it.

“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey gasped immediately confused.

Yevgeny eyes widened. “Ooooo you said a bad word you gotta put a dollar in the swear jar!”

“IAN FUCKING GALLAGHER!!!!!”

“That’s another dollar.”

Ian came running so fast into the living room that he almost fell over his own feet. He took in Mickey on the couch, a scowl etched deeply into the planes of his face and Yev smiling cheesily like nothing was wrong.

“Oh Mick I—I thought you’d still be asleep.” Ian stuttered.

He arched his eyebrows giving Ian the classic Mickey Milkovich face that said something between, “are you fucking kidding me?” and “I’m gonna fuck you up.” Really the knuckle tattoos were just a reiteration of what was clear ninety-five percent of the time on his face.

“Bedroom jackass. Now.” He huffed getting off the couch.

“That’s another dollar in the swear jar!” Yev screeched.

Ian smiled sheepishly. “Yev I’m just gonna go talk to Uncle Mickey for a second okay. We’ll be right in this room if you need anything.”

“Okay!”

Ian tried to nod but was suddenly yanked by the back of his shirt into their bedroom by a not-so-happy Mickey.

“Start talking asshole.” He fumed. “Please enlighten me on why I am suddenly Uncle Mickey to a kid I’ve never fucking met before in my fucking apartment on MY fucking couch watching MY fucking cartoons!”

“Mick that’s like ten more dollars in the swear jar.” Ian mumbled before quickly backtracking due to Mickey’s glare. “Alright, okay, I’m sorry. It’s just that Svetlana had to go to a meeting about a big deal for my career and her babysitter canceled. She had no one else to go to Mick we had to take him.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake you have the backbone of a fucking jellyfish.” He spat.

“Mickey,” He whined softly feasting his puppy-dog eyes on his boyfriend and pulling him close. “Don’t be mad at me, please? I only wanna make you happy I promise.”

But the seduction was clear in his voice and Mickey quickly noticed the attempt to hypnotize him. But fuck if he wasn’t gonna let him try.

“You are so not fucking your way out of this one.” Mickey muttered. “There’s a kid in the next room.”

“So then forgive me for now and I’ll rock your world and your asshole later.” Ian shrugged sneaking a kiss to silence his boyfriend.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too Mick now come on let’s go pretend to be parents for a day. Then we get to give him back!” Ian chuckled.

Mickey rolled his eyes following his stupid ass softie of a boyfriend back into the living room. Ian disappeared back into the kitchen leaving Mickey with the damn kid for all of eternity it seemed.

“What’s your name anyway?”

Yev smiled showing off the jack-o’-lantern like teeth of his. “Yevgeny. Mama calls me that, but Ian and my other friends call me Yevy or Yev most of the time.”

“The fuck kind of name is that?”

Yev raised an eyebrow. “Are you the angry bottom? Mommy said if you were mean to me to tell her. I’d be careful if I was you she likes to hit bad guys with high heels.”

Mickey’s eye widened before he found himself chuckling and turning back to the tv.

“What the fuck is this?”

“You cuss too much. It’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles duh.” Yev sighed.

“No it isn’t. This is terrible where’s the original one, not this sup-o-animated crap? Let me teach you a little something kid.”

*                                                                             *                                                             *

Ian had been watching on as Yevgeny and Mickey watched every single episode of Mutant Ninja Turtles they had on dvd(5 seasons worth) singing the fucking theme song every time a new one would start like they hadn’t already sang it the first thirty-five times. It was kind of adorable, when they weren’t singing of course, and Mickey turned into a child before Ian’s very eyes. He wasn’t the softest human being in the world, but he didn’t mind explaining plotlines that Yev had never seen before or spouting out random facts that Ian didn’t even know he knew.

And Ian loved it so much because it was like a glimpse into Mickey’s past. A glimpse into who he used to be as a kid. With all the bad memories it did his heart good to know there was something pure and happy there.

 Then there was the adorable moment in history where he showed Yev how to draw a fucking turtle and Ian cried.

“No look it’s super easy. I watched this shit—sorry show all the time when I was kid. It’s the first thing I ever learned to draw. I’ll draw a shape and then you draw a shape and when we’re done it’ll be a ninja turtle.”

“I wanna draw Michelangelo!” Yevgeny insisted. 

It was the cutest fucking thing ever. Like actually ever. By the time everyone was ready for lunch Ian wasn’t even surprised that when the word pizza came out of his mouth both Mickey and Yev practically burst out of their skin. It was nice to watch Mickey not scowl at someone. Yev was a happy kid and he didn’t need much to keep him a good mood, just a little attention and a little adventure, the two A’s of keeping any child under wraps. Mickey didn’t know how to care for a child once so ever, but he knew what he liked to do as a kid and he thought that maybe Yev wasn’t so different. It just so happened that he wasn’t wrong.

“You havin’ fun Yevy?” Ian asked swinging his arm as they walked towards the pizza shop.

Yevgeny smiled enthusiastically. “Yea! Can we get ice-cream after pizza?”

“Why don’t you ask Uncle Mickey?” Ian grinned liking the new nickname.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Why would we eat pizza and not get ice-cream? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You guys are the best!”

Mickey ordered while Ian sat at their usual table with Yev trying to recreate a ninja turtle on one of the placemats.

“You guys adopt a kid or something?” Polo asked ringing up the order.

Mickey scoffed. “Hell no, we’re just watching him for Ian’s angry Russian boss who I highly doubt has a green card that makes me question my views on hitting women.”

“You know I really do enjoy these little chats of ours Mickey, you wear your heart on your sleeve every time.” He chuckled handing him his change.

Mickey promptly flipped him off before going to sit next to Ian at their booth.

“What the hell is that?” He questioned staring curiously at the placemat.

Yev just cackled. “Ian tried to draw Raphael. I said it looks more like poop.”

“You know Yev you were a lot nicer before Mickey got a hold of you.” Ian grumbled.

“Awww it’s not that bad I mean . . . I’m sorry it’s pretty shitty Gallagher. You’ve got other talents though leave the art to me and Yev.”

“It’s not fair you never even tried to teach me. You gave Yev a fricken play by play.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “You jealous of a five year old Gallagher?”

“I’m six not five. Don’t worry Ian, we still love you.”  

“Why thank you Yev.” He smiled before playfully sticking his tongue out at Mickey.

By all means they weren’t the most perfect babysitters around. Mickey owed nearly thirty dollars to this mysterious swear jaw before noon. Ian tried to draw a turtle which accidently turned into a penis that made him crack up like fifteen year old boy. Mickey instantly found it comical that he was supposed to be the immature one of the relationship. They ate pizza and shoved breadsticks smothered in cheese into their mouths, and it was a lot of fun. A year ago Mickey wouldn’t have left the house on a Saturday unless it was to buy more smokes. It used to be just him, with Mandy coming in every now and again to get high together and play videogames but the ginger next to him had changed everything. It was scary, absolutely terrifying most of the time, but how could he ever bring himself to be without him? Ian was slowly becoming everything.

“Why you staring at me like that?” Ian smirked.

Mickey just shrugged. “Your nice to look at is all.”

“Is that your way of calling me beautiful?”

“Fuck off Gallagher.”

But yes, yes it was.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“Mommy Mommy we had the best day ever! We had pancakes and watched cartoons and Uncle Mickey showed me the real mutant ninja turtles not the fake stuff on Nickelodeon and he showed me how to draw one too see!” He paused to shove his picture in her face before going back to talking a hundred words per seconds. “And we had pizza just like the turtles and we got ice-cream but mine fell and I cried and Mickey gave me his and Ian said I can come over and watch the show whenever I want isn’t that great!!!”

Svetlana smiled at her son with wide eyes trying to understand every word he was saying as he rushed to get everything out. The silence once he finished was especially nice.

“Uncle Mickey huh? Angry bottom has weak spot for little boys?” She asked with raised eyebrows.

“Oh great just make me sound even more like a fucking pedophile why don’t you? Like the nickname doesn’t do enough of that.” He grumbled.

“Miiiiiickey don’t cuss, you were doing so good.” Yev whined.

Mickey’s face reddened instantly, Ian just wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder squeezing him firmly.

“He did a really good job. I think they’re best friends Lana, you guys might have to form a treaty when the next ninja turtles movie comes out.”

“Fuck off Gallagher.”

She smirked slightly picking Yevgeny up and heading towards the door.

“We talk tomorrow about work okay? So enjoy night of tiny asshole literally and figuratively.”

And with that she turned away and left with Yev waving excitedly back at his new best friends.

“Bye Uncle Ian and Uncle Mickey!”

“I really fucking hate her.” Mickey muttered once they were gone.

Ian chuckled. “You did good Mick. Almost makes me think you’ll be a good daddy.”

“Yea don’t get your hopes up firecrotch. You gonna take me to bed and start sucking up or what?”

Ian grinned suddenly getting an idea and before Mickey knew what was happening he was being carried off to their bedroom straight bridal style which left Mickey to wrap his arms around Ian’s neck begrudgingly.

“Goddammit Ian you’re such a dick!”

“You look so beautiful though, I just couldn’t help myself.”

He tossed Mickey roughly onto their bed climbing over his body and puling at the clothes that were so rudely in his way. Mickey just looked on with a goofy grin on his face as Ian moved down his body. Gallagher could suck a dick like no other, and he was pretty sure if the world was ending that was exactly what he would want to experience for his last moments on earth. Ian’s mouth was warm and wet creating this beautiful suction on Mickey’s cock. He swallowed him down hallowing his cheeks and letting slobber drip down the shaft.

“Fuck Ian.”  Mickey mumbled fingers threading themselves into his hair.

Ian feeds off it and Mickey knows it, knows that his boyfriend loves doing a good job and making the man below him cry out. So he gives it to him and every time it makes the emotions in the room run even higher. Ian ran his fingers along Mickey’s thigh before crudely shoving it to the side to make more room. His lips were red and swollen the longer that he sucked and the sight was getting Mickey all worked up. His fingers tingled to tough Ian to grip and dig into the flesh of this body that he loved so much.

“Come on I wanna touch you already dammit.” Mickey, AKA king of sentimentalism, demanded.

Ian moaned around him giving one more deep swallow before lifting his head to those ridiculously blue eyes.

“What do you want Mick?” He whispered trailing his wet lips along his lover’s stomach.

“Don’t make me say it asshole.”

Ian just smiled settling himself against Mickey again his arms on either side of that face he loved so much.

“That’s how relationships work babe. Especially in this bedroom. You tell me your fantasies, your kinks and your fetishes and I do them because I love you and I want to make you cum like you’ve never came before, so let’s try that again. What do you want?”

Mickey didn’t appreciate how Ian had this ability to just be sweet and soft once second and then just become a complete and total sex demon the next. It made him a little nervous in the grand scheme of things. He was good at fucking, as taking whatever was given to him and sucking and riding(though he’d never ridden anyone before Ian). But the emotional aspect of it was new, of trusting your partner, and trusting them with your sexual desires. He didn’t wanna look stupid or cheesy or even worse turn Ian off. He’d only ever experienced the roughness of it, and now Ian was trying to help him see this other world. A world he wasn’t so sure he was ready for.

“I . . .”

He took a deep breath because he was always a man of action and not of words. With gentle fingers he eased over Ian’s skin, loving the sharp twinge of electricity when they were touching. He loved to touch Ian, loved when they were connected even without him penetrating the deeper parts of Mickey’s body. He kind of just wanted to feel him, to soak Ian’s touch into his bones, but he had no fucking clue how to tell him that so he just grabbed at his body and pulled him close so that their chests touched and he was completely wrapped up in his boyfriend the way that he wanted.

“You. I want you.”

He pulls at Ian’s clothes wanting skin and contact. Ian’s safe and he’s okay and that means everything to Mickey, but he needs reassurance. He needs to be positive that Ian’s gonna stay right there and love him or he just might lose it. Ian knows Mickey doesn’t want lube, wants to feel that slight burn that the spit brings and he’s perfectly okay with it. Somehow Mickey’s legs encircle Ian’s waist and he’s finally free to touch and grope and _feel._ His hands gripped tightly at Ian’s hair once the motion of their skin hitting together began. His lips were everywhere licking and biting and sucking and fuck is it heaven for Ian. Every part of him feels sensitive and when Mickey touches him it’s ecstasy through and through.

“Oh shit Mick that’s so good.” Ian moaned pulling their lips hastily together.

They kissed and they fucked and they held each other tumbling through sweaty sheets for as long as their stamina would allow. Because it wasn’t just sex, couldn’t ever just be sex again. It was like . . . love or some stupid shit like that. But still sex, still dirty, filthy, “allow me to lick the cum off your stomach” sex because Gallagher’s a fucking freak and Mickey likes it. It was the most perfect set of dynamics either of them could ask for.

“Jesus Ian.” He gasped watching his boyfriend’s display with his tongue.

Ian just shrugged holding Mickey’s sides with a firm grip and nipping softly at his belly button.

“You taste good.”

“I cannot collapse on top of you after sex if you’re all the way down there. Get up here.”

Ian grinned doing as he asked. “So bossy.”

For a while they just sat in silence Ian playing with Mickey’s hair and Mickey lying contently on Ian’s chest listening to the smooth sound of his heartbeat. He was happy and finally relaxed after a week of absolute hell. In a way he felt like he had to love Ian more than he had the week before or a month before that. Something about taking care of him and seeing him in that light of vulnerability made his need to protect Ian greater. And he knew that no matter what he’d always do everything in his power to protect his Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think i may have made a tag on tumblr? I think it maybe me GML? Is that a thing that people do? They like tag their stories so you can find them? But i think that's for more relevant writers. Oh well i'll do it anyway tbh.


	16. The Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow they skipped the line and Mandy whispers something in the dude’s ear that gets them in. she handed him a bracelet to put on his wrist and tugged him through the crowed with determination. It becomes clear that they’re not in just some club. It’s a night club, a gay night club at that, and the lights pulse heavily with the loud music blasting from all directions. Ian smirked at all the go-go boys in tight shorts and neon paint moving their bodies in very familiar ways. He felt kind of at home in a weird way. Like he was returning to place he hadn’t been in a long time, a dream world coming back to him again. The glitter and the sweat, and the smell of cheap dollar bills being stuffed down crotches. It was kind of comforting in a sick way.
> 
> She led him to a booth in the back of the club where his party awaited. It’s Chase and Andy and Clive and Justin and Mark and Tyler. Everyone’s there. He hadn’t seen any of it coming and it felt amazing to be suddenly engulfed on all sides by these people he’d kind of come to loved clapping him on the back and squeezing him tight. And at the heart of it all is this adorable uncomfortable guy that completely had his heart on lock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has come to my attention that there is such a thing as being beta'd. I'm such a fucking noob but just know that none of this shit is ever beta'd and if they're are mistakes just let me know and I might go back and fix it any i might not. Anyway i fucking love this chapter so much and i'm bored and it's Friday so here you go. Hope you enjoy. Tell your friends and your family and your enemies and shit. Okay I'ma go now. Bye.
> 
> (Also let the record me known that my angst is fucking terrible. I cannot let characters be mad at each other for more than two seconds it's like actually really bad. I tried tho. Arguments i can do i can do arguments with the fucking best of them.)

Mickey never planned a birthday before which made the whole fucking thing all the worse. He left the invitations to Mandy having no interested in talking to the spray tanned litter of six packed dickheads Ian called colleagues. He was very insistent on Ian not knowing it would come from him, so he had Mandy find out everything that Ian wanted and then just repeat it back to him so that he could take care of it. Mandy on the other hand thought her brother was being fucking stupid with all the secretive bullshit. She went along with his childish schemes anyway though cause she found it kind of endearing. Their birthdays usually included a bottle of premium alcohol, depending on their recent paydays, and whatever take out they wanted. Now the two Milkovichs were planning a surprise birthday party for her fuckhead of a brother’s gay lover. It was moments like that where she really wished Terry could see them now cause that shit was hilarious.

“He wants to go to a gay club.” She explained.

Mickey groaned. “And you didn’t try to convince of literally ANYTHING else because?”

“Because dickhead you specifically told me whatever he wants, you’ll get it. He wants to go to a fucking gay club with his hot ass model friends and take shots off a stripper’s body. He wants to live a little Mick.”

“Ew.”

It’s a little frustrating, and Mickey struggled extensively with doing things for others no matter how uncomfortable it made him. Leave it to Gallagher to really press his fucking buttons.

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do just google gayest club in New York and set up a party for twenty models?” He mumbled.

Mandy rolled her eyes. “This is not the time for you to get jealous for not being six foot two and golden brown dumbass, Ian is for some reason in love with you and your magical asshole it’s about giving him a good birthday. Not to mention he already told me where he wants to go. Boy is oblivious when it comes to picking up hints, but it’s called the Monster up in Manhattan.”

“The Monster? The fuck kind of name is that?”

“I don’t fucking know jackass but make sure you do the party on a Friday. He told me a story about the time he got invited and didn’t go because of your anti-social ass and apparently on Fridays they have really hot dancers for eye candy.”

“Oh my god this party is going to be the death of me.” Mickey insisted.

Then there was the fucking problem of what the hell was he supposed to get this kid for his birthday. Ian was the hardest person in the world to shop for. Mickey, you could always get away with a couple cartons of cigarettes, some new paints or some shit, and he was fine. Ian on the other hand never asked for anything other than a protein shake and like fuck was he gonna buy his boyfriend a fucking protein shake for his birthday. He wished he would’ve held on to that fucking camera, but leave it to Mickey to use up all of his good ideas at once. Dammit.

Ian on the other hand was completely oblivious to the fact that all of this planning was going on around him. He was trying to get back into the swing of things, something that always took a little time after a depressive episode. He spent most of his days at photo shoot after photo shoot after photo shoot now that he felt more stable. Working helped him feel not so broken, it restored this idea that he could take care of himself and everything would be okay. He just wanted to do his work and go home and fuck his boyfriend. Svetlana, however; had other plans.

“I got you big deal. Big.” She said smugly, proud of herself no doubt.

Ian smiled. “That’s great. What is it?”

“New campaign for Armani. You get suits tailored perfectly for toned body and you take lots and lots and lots of pictures. This will open even more doors once they connect the face from fashion show to campaign I am sure of it.”

“Perfect, when do we start?”

“As soon as I get you a plane ticket.” She shrugged turning in her chair to mess with papers as to not have to face Ian.

“Excuse me, what was that?”

“Campaign must be shot on tropical island or something. That’s where they want to do it so you go.”

He shook his head softly. “I—I can’t.”

“Angry bottom boyfriend will be here when you get back.” She sighed.

“It’s not just Mickey,” He lied. “I mean . . . My birthday’s next week. You want me to work on my birthday?”

She rolled her eyes. “You will be back before birthday, I’ve made sure of it. Now go pack, have plenty of gay sex and practice brooding face alright?”

And that’s it. He really didn’t have a say in the matter which had never bothered him before because he no one to go home to. Now the thought of leaving Mickey made him nauseous. He tried to imagine waking up and not having a snoring grumpy pale midget by his side and just couldn’t picture it. It wasn’t even that he was worried Mickey would be upset that he had to leave the week before his birthday. It was him being selfish, him needing Mickey more than he should’ve ever allowed himself to. He had no idea what the hell to do.

So he went home and fucked his boyfriend. He was really good at it, and sex seemed to clear his thoughts a little bit. Although Mickey could always tell something was up when he was painting one second and the next his boyfriend was bending him over their couch and giving it to him like no tomorrow. Not that he ever minded at the time, but once he got the cum off the back of his legs you better believe he was gonna get to the bottom of things.

He lied back on their raggedy couch panting and trying to keep his legs from shaking. He hated when his legs shook from getting pounded it was incredibly embarrassing.

“You gonna explain now or is there another round of furious fucking in you?” He asked.

Ian sighed immediately crawling on to the couch mouth chasing dick like it was the last coke in the dessert.

“I was fucking kidding get the hell up here Gallagher.”

“What happened to my man that didn’t like to talk? Why won’t you just let me suck your dick and not talk about my feelings huh?” Ian mumbled.

Mickey scoffed. “Because then you’re just gonna wake me up at three in the morning when you can’t keep it in any longer and tell me all about it. You can suck my dick then instead.”

Ian ended up collapsing onto Mickey, his face hidden in his neck where he didn’t have to face Mickey as the words came out.

“I have to leave the country.” He whispered barely audible to his own ears.

“What’s that mumbles?”

“The country, Mickey; I have to leave it.” Ian groaned looking up into confused blue eyes.

Mickey just smiled taking the frowny face of his boyfriend in his hands. “Why? Ian don’t tell me you’ve been going on killing sprees again.”

“I’m serious. It’s for work . . . I have a big job for Armani. Lana says it could be a game changer for my career, it could catapult me into being a house hold name if I play my cards right. She says I don’t have a choice either so…I leave as soon as she gets my ticket.”

He watched as it settled over Mickey, that smile of his quickly darkening into a scowl. All it did was make him feel worse about the situation.

“What the fuck Ian your birthday is on Monday!” He snapped.

“I know but I didn’t have a choice!”

Mickey shoved at Ian struggling to get as far away from him as he could.

“Oh come off it you’re a complete and total pussy when it comes to that Russian bitch and her fucking stilettos and you fuckin know it.”

“Mickey she’s my boss. S—She’s more than that. You don’t know the thing she did for me when I first came here scared and manic. She’s family.”

Mickey’s eyes got darker as Ian hit a soft spot the shorter man hadn’t known existed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He exploded. “We’re talking about what we owe people now? Cause I sure as shit didn’t spend two fucking hours hiding the knives and everything I could imagine you slitting your wrists with in this goddamn apartment for the fuck of it.”

Ian didn’t even really know what the problem was. He just knew Mickey was yelling at him like it was his fault and that really wasn’t fucking fair. So he yelled back because he was hurt just like mickey was hurt and it resulted in the mangling of hearts and vocal chords. It was a lack of understanding on both parts. A lack of communication. A lack of willingness to listen and to be there for each other. And without those kind of fundamentals beneath them when things got rough they got _rough_ and it lead to things rupturing in a way that really wasn’t even needed.

“Why the fuck are you even angry right now. It’s my fucking birthday I’m the one that has to put up with this shit. It’s not even about you!”

“Oh I’m sorry I guess I mistook your shit in my fucking fridge, your name next to mine on the fucking lease, and your mammoth ginger ass in my fucking bed as meaning we were on a fucking team here, my mistake!”

“I DIDN’T FUCKING HAVE A CHOICE MICKEY!”

“LIKE ABSOLUTE FUCK YOU DIDN’T GALLAGHER!”

“Jesus Christ you’re unbelievable!”

“Yea? No one begged you to move your ass in here.”

“Fine maybe I’ll just take my shit and go then.”

“Fine see if I care bitch.”

Mickey stormed off to his studio and Ian stormed off to their bedroom shoving clothes roughly into suit cases. Mickey waited panting from all the screaming and waiting for the sound of the door to slam before exiting the room. He collapsed on the couch he’d been fucked on just minutes before and groaned because what the fuck even just happened?

Ian stayed at Mandy’s that night and Mickey didn’t even text him to make sure he took his meds, so he knew they were really fighting. He couldn’t sleep he was so angry and he ended up telling Svetlana he’d leave on the next flight out of NYC out of spite. She got him on a flight the next morning and he left before Mandy could talk him out of it. He’d show Mickey fucking Milkovich was it felt like to have him there. He wanted him gone so fucking bad so be it. It’s their first really fight one fucking week before his birthday and it fucking sucks.

Mickey didn’t sleep in their bed that night out of vindictiveness, because it reeks of ginger dickheads with amazing cologne and he didn’t need that in his life at the moment. So when he woke up the next day and his back was absolutely killing him he was instantly even more pissed off than before. Ian didn’t call to apologize for ruining everything and quite frankly it confuses him a little bit. Mickey isn’t used to this part of the relationship. The walking out and slamming of doors and not apologizing within minutes. They’d had a few disagreements, hell they’d had worse than that, but something about Ian not coming home hurts Mickey more than he knows what to do with.

Mandy told him that Ian left before she even got the chance to wake up, and it dawned on him that they were in a fight. They were fighting. Because some Russian bitch with no better insult than angry bottom, and that pissed him off more than anything.

*                                                                             *                                                             *

“It’s been three days Mick why don’t you just call him?” Mandy sighed.

He sneered. “He’s probably off in the Bahamas fucking some pretty boy with better eyebrows than me, who the fuck needs him?”

“First of all no one had better eyebrows than you. Second, we both know he’s probably crying over his own boner with how much he misses you so stop with the cheating bullshit and let’s finish planning the party so that when he does come back he’s forever indebted to you and your penis.”

He paused looking for the right words to say so that she understood but he didn’t look like such a pussy.

“It was our first fight.”

And she understood immediately, because if anyone understood relationship drama it was unfortunately her.

“So let’s make it fucking worth it huh?”

“What if he doesn’t forgive me or whatever?” He mumbled.

She knocked her shoulder lovingly into his and just shook her head at him.

“He’ll forgive you. Ian’s one of the good ones Mick. I promise you he’s missing you just as much as your missing him. Soooooooooo,”she grinned jostling him. “let’s show him the adorable domestic fuck that he’s missing.”

Mickey sighed doing everything in his power not to smile.

 “Fine dammit, did you order Fuckhead’s cake?”

So they invited everyone that Ian knew. Seeing as how he was the only out of the three with anything close to actual friends it was a much better turn out then one might have expected. It was a lot of models and random ass photographers. Mickey still had no present, which probably wouldn’t go over very well after their screaming match the other day. He had a dress shirt already picked out that he was going to have to iron all by himself because his boyfriend wasn’t there to do it for him. It sucked. By day five he’d taken to sleeping on Ian’s side of the bed with Ian’s pillow just to have some semblance of him being there. He missed his fucking boyfriend so much it hurt, and he was such a bitch for pushing him away that it actually made him sick.

He just wanted to know that the fucker was okay was that too much to ask?

Mickey: You’re a real asshole for not texting me.

Ian: You’re a real asshole for kicking me out of our apartment.

Mickey: Dumbass you left. How could I even kick you out of something that’s yours? Look man never fucking mind that. Just are you okay?

Ian: I’m fine in the physical sense of the word. I kinda miss your face a little bit even after you yelled at me.

Mickey: I miss you too, so why not get your ass back here so we can celebrate twenty-four years of you being a complete and total jackass.

Ian: ; ) I love you too Mickey, and I accept your hidden apology.

It had gotten to the point where neither of them even remembered what they were mad at. It was stupid to fight so harshly over something just to make up within seconds over text but it seemed even stupider to let something that was really nothing continue to fester.

So Mandy went to go pick Ian up from the airport and get him dressed for “dinner” while Mickey sat at a fucking bar surrounded by twinks and teddy bears or whatever the fuck the gay slang was. His knees won’t stop shaking and he just wants the birthday boy to hurry the hell up and tell him he didn’t do a terrible job. He’d never thrown anything other than a “Welcome home from prison Daddy” party, and for the first time he wasn’t nervous about which one of his siblings would be Terry’s punching bag when the boos flowed too easily, he just wanted his boyfriend to have a good time and maybe dance near him. There was still no way in all hell that he would dance.

“I thought we were going out to dinner?” Ian asked Mandy as they pulled up to some club.

“We are. My boss just wants me to stop here for a second, grab something. It’ll take one second come on.”

Somehow they skipped the line and Mandy whispers something in the dude’s ear that gets them in. she handed him a bracelet to put on his wrist and tugged him through the crowed with determination. It becomes clear that they’re not in just some club. It’s a night club, a gay night club at that, and the lights pulse heavily with the loud music blasting from all directions. Ian smirked at all the go-go boys in tight shorts and neon paint moving their bodies in very familiar ways. He felt kind of at home in a weird way. Like he was returning to place he hadn’t been in a long time, a dream world coming back to him again. The glitter and the sweat, and the smell of cheap dollar bills being stuffed down crotches. It was kind of comforting in a sick way.

She led him to a booth in the back of the club where his party awaited. It’s Chase and Andy and Clive and Justin and Mark and Tyler. Everyone’s there. He hadn’t seen any of it coming and it felt amazing to be suddenly engulfed on all sides by these people he’d kind of come to loved clapping him on the back and squeezing him tight. And at the heart of it all is this adorable uncomfortable guy that completely had his heart on lock.

It made him so unbelievably exuberant to see his face, no matter how nervous he was. To fight over his birthday and then come home to a surprise party was kind of ironic and adorable and perfect, and he just needed to kiss his boyfriend and show him how thankful he was.

Mickey looked at this tall ass idiot with a big goofy smile that unfortunately lit up his entire world. When Ian slipped his hands on his ass and up his back he didn’t even flinch, didn’t dream of ever pulling away. They kissed slowly at first before quickly building to something that no one was worthy of seeing. Ian’s hands were everywhere touching and groping at Mickey’s body sinfully. It was good and Ian had never been surer of anything in his whole entire life than Mickey Milkovich.

“Hi.” Ian gasped after finally pulling away, his smile still way too big.

Mickey smirked running his thumb along Ian’s bottom lip.

“Hi. You make me go a whole week without your pale ass again and I’m gonna hurt you. Happy birthday by the way. ”

“Sorry. Won’t happen again I swear.”

“Yea well then . . . go enjoy your fucking party and stop sobbing all over me Jesus Gallagher.” He mumbled leaning in to kiss him again.

If Mickey didn’t know any better he would’ve sworn Ian had turned twenty-one instead of twenty-four. He was running around dancing and laughing and basking in the attention that everyone was giving him. It was a gay man’s wonderland and he took full advantage. Somehow Mickey ended up being the only person who refused to dance leaving him to watch his boyfriend look like a dumbass with all his friends. The dancers loved Ian and he certainly wasn’t afraid to put on a show for the crowd. He ended up grinding with Mandy and screaming some terrible song at the top of his lungs, which still managed to draw a crowd around him and Mickey once again found himself watching his hips swing skillfully in the stagnant air. Damn he was hot.

The smile on his face was what really made it worth. Gallagher’s mouth had never been so wide. Mickey liked to think that he had something to do with it. That knowing someone cared enough to orchestrate this whole ordeal when they’d never go to a club called the Monster if life depended on it meant something to him. He didn’t even care about the twinks and old ass fossils everywhere just as long as Ian was happy.

The only time his eyes weren’t on Ian was when he needed a refill on his drink. This somehow sent the message that he was down to get hit on by some jack ass with a manbun. Jesus Christ a man should just not have enough hair to put into a bun, that shit is fucking ridiculous.

“You wanna get out of here?” The dickhead with said manbun asked wetly against his neck.

Mickey rolled his eyes pulling away. “Nah man, I’m good.”

“Oooo a pushy bottom, I like it.” He grinned. “I’m Michael by the way.”

What the fuck was with everyone and assuming he took it like some bitch anyway? Not that he didn’t, cause he fucking took it and it was fucking amazing but there was nothing bitchy about Gallagher’s cock that shit was lethal.

“Ah shit I’m Mickey, now see if we carved our initials into a tree everyone would just think we were a chocolatey treat, this relationship could never work.”

“That your way of tell me to be persistent?”

“That’s my way of telling you to fuck off.” Mickey chuckled going back to his drink.

“Hey can I get another whiskey for my friend who’s totally not gonna fuck me tonight?” Manbun asked the waiter.

Mickey was about to revert back to his old ways of breaking glasses over the heads of pieces of shit that didn’t understand the word no when a ginger tree was suddenly draped over him licking inside his mouth. He replaced the taste of whiskey with pure Ian and it was perfect. The jealous little fucker raked his fingers through Mickey’s hair completely ruining the look he had going. How ever were dudes who look like they needed to bathe before yoga class gonna hit on him now?

“Baby this is the best birthday everrrrrrr.” He grinned kissing him again too dominantly to be sweet. “Thank you.”

Mickey smirked raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re welcome carrot top.”

“Who’s your friend?” Ian asked eyes hardening as he turned never taking his arms off Mickey.

Mickey tried not to laugh at the glare he was throwing at Manbun, but it was getting increasingly difficult.

“Just some guy who bought me a drink and asked me to go home with him.”

Manbun was sizing Ian up trying to be tough, but Ian had a good three inches on him and they could see his faulty resolve crumbling. As if to stake his claim Ian got a firm grip on Mickey’s hips before shoving his crotch roughly into them completely ignoring the guy.

“I wanna do shots. Will you do shots with me Mick?”

He smiled really enjoying the whole jealously thing. “Yea, what kind of shorts does my big, strong man wanna take?”

Ian gleamed. “Body shots. I don’t not eat carbs for nothing.”

“Will you excuse us?” Mickey said not even giving the douche a chance to say anything before Ian was towing him to the other side of the bar.

“Jealous much?” Mickey cackled as Ian crawled up to the bar.

“Why don’t you put that filthy mouth of yours to good use and make the birthday boy happy huh?” He taunted lethally.

He thought about for a second before saying to hell with it and plucking the lime from Ian’s mouth with his teeth.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Being the designated photographer was fucking awesome. Mandy was immensely proud and. . . quite frankly shocked by her brother’s behavior. One second he’s sitting grumpily at the bar as always and then all of a sudden it’s body shots off his boyfriend. Then it’s standing next to Ian while he danced. And then the impossible happened…. Mickey Milkovich started tapping his foot to the beat. And tapping went to head nodding and then BAM! Mickey was totally letting his boyfriend grind up on it. And damn Ian was a good dancer. He’d barely had anything to drink but kid was moving like he’d had an eight ball all to himself. He was all over Mickey after some dude tried to take what was so clearly his. Sure he’d danced with his friends and laughed and done shots, but when it came to that dance floor it was all about Mickey and how close he could get to him, how many hickeys he could leave before Mickey would push him away to let the oxygen return to his brain no doubt. As designated photographer rest assured there was PLENTY of documentation of that beautiful shit.

His cake was French vanilla with this rich chocolate frosting, Ian’s favorite. Watching models and their tiny ass microscopic pieces while Mandy and Mickey each had huge ass slices did wonders for the brother-sister duo’s egos as well. It was a fun ass party. And most importantly Ian was happy. He was surrounded by people who loved and cherished him and that’s all that mattered in that moment. And she was immensely happy that she was able to help give it to him.

“Hey I gotta leave before you to grab something for tonight. Meet you at home?” Mickey roared over the loud music.

Ian frowned immediately slipping his fingers onto Mickey’s hip. “Okay. I guess I’ll catch a ride home with Mands.”

“Hey it’ll be worth it, I think. You’re relatively sober right?”

“There’s only one of you at the moment does that answer the question?”

He chuckled. “I guess so. I’ll see you at home birthday boy.”

“M’kay. How about that birthday kiss?”

“Dammit get over here Gallagher.”

Ian was pretty sure he’d be happy kissing Mickey for the rest of his life. It made him feel weird and light and gooey inside to come to that conclusion.

“I love you.”

Mickey just smiled. “Why don’t you wait till you get home to tell me how much you love me?”

He patted Ian softly on the cheek kissing him squarely on the jaw before disappearing into the night to do whatever the hell it is he had planned. Ian was frustrated sexually and mentally. He hated surprises that he knew were coming but didn’t know what exactly they entailed. He hated even more that he wouldn’t be able to fool around with his boyfriend on the way home. And most of all he hated that Mandy wasn’t saying jackshit about it.

“Come on I know you know what he’s planning!” He groaned.

She rolled her eyes. “Cabdriver sir you were listening right? Did I not say ten fucking times that I don’t know shit?”

“Uh yes ma’am?”

“Thank you. Jesus Ian we are like twenty minutes from your apartment. Whatever it is you’ll see soon enough. I’m sure I’ll be sleeping with ear plugs tonight.”

“Oh god I hope so. No offence but being without your brother for was torture. I think I may have broken the skin from jacking off too much.” Ian sighed collapsing his head on her shoulder.

She turned to stare at him. “We are so not close enough for this bullshit.”

“Too much?”

“Way too fucking much. Let’s get you home so you can stop suffering from chafed dick huh?”

Mandy took Ian’s cake and presents to her apartment because Ian looked like he was about to implode and she was a little worried about the dumbass. That left Ian to rush to his apartment in search of that boyfriend of his just in time for his surprise.

“Ouch fuck that hurt!” Mickey hissed.

“Mick?” Ian called through the door without entering. “Are you in some kind of sex swing or chains? Can I come in?”

“Oh shit just uh . . .  yea one second. Alright, alright get in here.”

Mickey was standing at the floor of their living room with his arms behind his back chewing nervously at his lip, but that surprisingly wasn’t what caught Ian’s attention. No sex swings. No chains. Instead their living room had been transformed. The couch and coffee table were gone leaving nothing on the wooden floor but what seemed to be their mattress. Oh and candles. There were candles everywhere. They lined the floor and the shelves and the book case up against the wall. That must’ve been what hurt Mickey. The wall that looked out on the city was completely made of glass, and although they usually kept the blinds down this time they were open letting the stars and the moon filter in kind of beautifully. Ian was at a loss for words. Actually speechless which just left Mickey absolutely terrified.

“Mick w—what’s all this?” He murmured gesturing to the sight.

Mickey automatically assumed that he hated it, which made sense cause he’d been feeling fucking stupid since he lit the first of the eight hundred fucking candles.

He sighed. “Fuck I tried alright? I didn’t know what to get you for your birthday so I spent over thirty dollars on these tiny ass candles, this is definitely a fire hazard by the way, I moved our big ass mattress all the way out here and opened the blinds so you could look at the fucking stars. I don’t know what else you want me to do man I can’t not fuck things up. This is stupid. I’m useless okay.”

“So all of this . . . is for me?”

“No Ian I gave myself third degree burns with these fucking candles to save electricity.” Mickey grunted.

Ian could feel his face begin to stretch with the smile forming at his lips. Leave it to fucking Mickey Milkovich to surprisingly be the most romantic little shit ever. Like he wouldn’t find candles and stargazing adorable. Who the fuck wouldn’t find that adorable? He crossed the room with long strides needing to feel Mickey against him and fix that scowl on his face. He kissed him soft, but firmly swallowing the sigh that Mickey exhaled when he finally realized that Ian didn’t hate it. More than anything he couldn’t hate it because it came from Mickey. And anything that had a piece of Mickey in it had to be good in some way or another.

Mickey slid his hands up Ian’s body taking that chiseled jaw in his hands as they kissed. It was nice to sit there for a minute and just taste one another. Ian’s tongue could do amazing things when given the chance and Mickey wouldn’t want to stop him from doing his thing. Then there was that special thing he did. That little flip that was almost like turning his tongue completely over but in a much more sexy and enticing way. Mickey’s hands tightened around him in response a fresh moan building at the base of his throat.

He pulled away pressing his forehead to Ian’s so they could catch their breath. He had something to say but no clue once so ever of how to say it. Ian watched his man sputter and struggle to get the words out and couldn’t imagine anything cuter existing in the world.

“I want…” He mumbled biting his lip.

Ian smiled reassuringly. “What Mick, what do you want?”

Their eyes met and Mickey didn’t even try to be sexy or alluring just let the words come out and hoped that Ian would reciprocate.

“I wanna fucking please you. I want you to use my body for whatever you want. I just wanna make you feel good.” Mickey insisted breathily.

Ian stared at him for a split second not even having to think about because of course he wanted all of Mickey all the time.

“Oh fuck come here.” He mumbled taking Mickey’s face in his hands.

What had been soft, longing kisses turned frantic and hot as Ian began to unwrap the best present of the night. He tugged Mickey down to their mattress kissing and biting and sucking at his lips. God Mickey loved it when he did that. Their hips began to bump together, Mickey struggling to hump against Ian’s thigh and still get his boyfriend’s shirt off. They were clumsy, as always, but the passion was there and that’s really all that mattered.

“What do you want me to do?” Mickey asked sucking lightly on Ian’s nipple as he hovered above him.

“Take your pants off.” Ian demanded immediately.

It didn’t surprise Mickey that Ian was instantly better than him at it, dickhead was practically a voyeur, but he worked quickly to do as asked regardless.

“I wanna watch you prep yourself for me. Fuck your hole open till I’m ready.”

Mickey knew that this wasn’t the time to be shy or scared. Everything that he had was everything that Ian had seen anyway. So he yanked his boxers down grabbing for lube and doing just what he’d been ordered to. Ian just started watching the glorious sight of slick, wet fingers tearing into Mickey’s whole, the sight enough to make his dick drool. It would never cease to amaze Ian how something so tiny could open up and be so warm and inviting. He was instantly having trouble keeping his hands to himself. It didn’t help that the man who was so insistent that kinky shit wasn’t his thing began to put on a fucking showing for him.

Mickey quickly worked three fingers up his ass bending at the angle to find that perfect spot within him. Ian was stroking himself by then and he found that he got off on the idea of someone getting off to him. It made him work a little harder, spread his fingers and let the moans spill unabashedly out of his throat. Soon his hips began to buck throwing down against the beautiful intrusion as his cock leaked pre-cum all over his stomach, and there at the foot of the mattress was Ian biting his lip roughly and squeezing at the base of his own erection to stave off an orgasm.

“Fuck that’s so goddamn good.” Mickey whined his ass instantly missing the feel of something substantial within it. “Lay down.”

“What happened to doing what I wanted to do?” Ian grinned doing as he asked.

“You can fuck me in whatever position you want I just wanna lick the rest of you for a minute that okay with you?”

And the fact that he hadn’t called Ian a jackass or dickbreath or even Gallagher meant he was really trying, and for that Ian would do just about anything.

“Perfect.”

Mickey took his time crawling onto Ian’s body so that their dicks pressed together and he could appreciate every piece of Ian the way that he deserved. His tongue was smooth and courteous as it traced the sensitive parts of Ian’s body. Mickey found that Ian was much more sensitive that night, arching and thrusting into every one of his touches. Hickeys slowly began to pop up everywhere, a litter of spots coloring from his throat and down his chest to Mickey’s most prized possession it seemed.

“O—Oh shittttt.” Ian grunted as Mickey’s mouth engulfed him. “That’s good Mick. That’s real fucking good.”

Mickey reached for Ian’s hands placing them sloppily at his head before going down like nobody’s business. Ian was long and thick, but Mickey’d had enough practice to know how to take it all down. Licking and spitting so that saliva and cum would stream from his chin only making Ian harder in the process. He moaned around the head tongue tracing the slit and pressing it slightly. Ian was a sobbing mess trying to keep himself from moving his hips too much which happened to be the opposite of what he wanted.

“Fuck my face Ian.” He gasped latching back onto to Ian’s dick.

His words went straight from his mouth to Ian’s blood stream pumping viciously down to his cock. Mickey wanted to be used. To exist for one night solely to bring pleasure to his partner. He didn’t care about his own discomfort or how badly his body craved to be pounded. It was all about Ian. And when Mickey let himself be taken over by his love and adoration for his boyfriend, it spiked something in him that just caused wonderful, amazing things to happen. Ian’s fingers tightened in Mickey’s hair bring his mouth sharply down on his dick. Slobber and cum were dripping everywhere and the sight of Mickey’s swollen red lips clinging desperately to the shaft and the celestial sound of him gagging from the length was too much for anyone.

“Oh Mickey! Mickey fuck I’m cumming, mmmm fuck!”

It filled Mickey’s mouth forcefully dripping from his lips in stringy strands and causing Ian’s dick to give another jerk. As if to matters worse he swallowed, licking his heavenly lips before sucking Ian clean and releasing him with a plop. Mickey had never been so soft and thorough before. Ian was used to impatience and a longing for something more intimate, cherished even, but that night he got it. Mickey reached for lube licking and nibbling his way across Ian’s thighs, sucking at his hip bones, and blowing softly against the tight ring of muscles at Ian’s ass. He didn’t even need to ask, yet he looked up at Ian with those beautiful blue as fuck eyes taking the jerking nod of his lover’s head as all the answer he needed.

Rimming Ian was heaven. He couldn’t keep himself together for the life of him and it was probably the loudest he’d ever been in bed. His hole was tight, but Mickey slowly worked it open slobbering profusely and sucking on the tiny bud. His tongue moved slow and methodically dipping into the hot entrance and licking the sides. Slurping at his asshole he watched from below as Ian thrashed and sobbed clawing at their sheets till his knuckles turned white and he was gasping into the air. God he was beautiful like that. So fucking beautiful. His dick bounced heavily, red and standing at attention. Mickey just wanted to make him feel so fucking good.

They tussled through sheets kissing and biting at each other’s lips as Ian made his way between Mickey’s legs. That’s the way he liked it the most whether he was willing to admit it or not. Not pressed up against some fucking alley but wrapping himself completely in Ian Gallagher. Looking into the eyes of this person that he loved with every fiber of his being.

“Happy birthday.” He whispered sucking at Ian’s throat as they moved deeper into their night of passion.

 

 

 


	17. The Dream(REPOST WRONG PREVIOUS CHAPTER WAS WRONG RE-READ)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian: Why was Mickey talking about Terry before he fell asleep?
> 
> Mandy: Shit he didn’t get a chance to tell you huh?
> 
> Ian: No, obviously not.
> 
> Mandy: Look today’s the anniversary of the day Terry almost killed my brother for being gay so he likes to get drunk and forget he’s gay and despised by his own piece of shit father alright?  
> Notes:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: i posted the wrong fucking thing last night so you guys didn't even get half of the entire chapter(no one told me it wasn't 10k either tbh) so most of you missed out on half of the entire thing so this is the full chapter! 
> 
> because 5x12 was so horrible, so incredibly ridiculous and pathetic and stupid, and didn't make a bit of damn sense, and was a huge waste of EVERYBODY'S time here is this. I really love it. I think it's one of my favorites and we get a big look into Mickey that i think the show really missed out on because it doesn't pay attention to all of its characters and again the writers are just fucking sucking at this point. Also it's around 10k words and we've hit 10k reads so yaaaaaaaaas.

When Mandy used her key to bring Ian’s cake over the next morning she figured she could avoid the love birds by just stopping at the kitchen. It wouldn’t have surprised her if they were still going at it, which she surely did not need to see. What she didn’t expect was to nearly step on a sea of fucking candles and her brother lying butt fucking naked with a big pile of ginger sprawled out on top of him. They hadn’t bothered to even attempt at covering up it seemed. It was just pale limbs everywhere and it was kind of horrifying. Ian had claw marks all over his back and ass and the back of his thighs for that matter. Somehow despite all of that they looked really sweet together, calm after such a rowdy night. She took it upon herself to snap a picture on Ian’s camera before purposely slamming the door too loud on her way out waking up the oh so happy couple.

Ian rolled off of Mickey snuggling deeper into his boyfriend’s body but otherwise remained dead to world. Mickey was a little less difficult to wake up and groaned feeling the familiar ache in his bones that could only be achieved when you fucked so long you forgot how many orgasms you reached. He’d done things to Gallagher that night that made him shiver just thinking about. He managed to check stargazing and romantic candles off his list of shit he’d swore he’d never do but somehow ended up doing anyway cause he kind of loved this kid who’d collapsed on top of him the night before giggling himself to sleep. He reached out attentively to touch his boyfriend fingers running through hair and down that beautiful face. It was annoying to be awake without him, he found.

“Ian.” He whined nudging him with his head. “Wake up.”

All he got was a pitiful snore in response. He raised an eyebrow annoyed at the reaction that he got before slipping down Ian’s body. Dickhead seemed to only be able to stay awake when something was being sucked or probed. He went for the rimming and a lazy hand job technique, a sure winner. Ian had been dreaming of adopting a puppy when all of a sudden it became Mickey rimming him over a stack of dog food. He awoke with a moan flexing his ass as he stretched, which was so beautiful Mickey groaned against his hole and instinctively went to knead the flesh.

“Happy post-birthday lazy sex.” Mickey murmured kissing Ian’s ass softly before biting the skin.

“Get up here then.” Ian hummed a small smile playing at his lips.

Mickey crawled up his lover’s body taking the sheet with him and bringing them into this beautiful hazy blissful bubble.

“Last night was like the best night of my life.” He said as Mickey rode him slow and languid.

Mickey grinned. “Really?”

“Uh huh. You did good Milkovich.”

“Don’t get used to it. My puddle of good ideas has just about dried up. You’ll be lucky if you get a ten year anniversary card that I didn’t recycle from someone else’s mailbox.”

Ian grinned kissing Mickey’s jaw. “Just the thought of you being here in ten years is enough for me.”

“Where else am I gonna go?”

Ian thought that he was teasing but there was an edge of seriousness to his eyes. As if a world without Ian would hold no interest for him. And that did really terrifying and wonderful things for Ian’s heart. It was easy to feel like Ian loved Mickey more just because he was more affectionate with how he showed it, but truth be told sometimes even Ian thought maybe he had no idea just how much Mickey cared. He’d be fine if it took forever to find out.

“Mick can we get a dog?” Ian panted pulling his hips down against his crotch.

“Oh shit why didn’t I think of that instead of almost burning our apartment down?”

Ian’s face scrunched up unpleasantly and he shook his head kissing Mickey for the umpteenth time that morning.

“No. No last night was amazing. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I just . . . want something that’s ours ya know? And I figured you’d be opposed to adoption so…”

“Damn right I’d be opposed to adoption.” Mickey rolled his eyes gripping Ian’s hair as his hips got a little faster. “The best part of this gay thing is not having to deal with kids and you chose the moment your dick is up my ass to bring it up? That’s how you’re gonna propose isn’t it? Wait till your cocks in me so I can’t say no”

“Well I was just pointing out my reasoning for wanting a dog. Give me a dog I don’t need a kid, it’s a bargaining tactic Mick. Not to mention if you don’t propose to me after all the shit I put up with you I’m gonna kick your ass.” He grinned cockily.

Mickey sat up forcing his hips to get rough as he grabbed at his cock giving it a firm tug.

“God you’re such a fucking chick. Keep bargaining with me Gallagher it’s only gonna make things worse for yourself.”

Ian’s eyes were on Mickey’s dick licking his lips.

“Nothing worse is happening over here.”

He chuckled rutting their hips together. “Fuck….ungh why do you need a dog anyway. We have a house together. What says commitment more than fucking living together?”

“I don’t need commitment Mickey, god right there. I—I know your committed to me I just want something that has a piece of me and a piece of you, something that is consciously both of us. Technically this isn’t a house, it’s a three bedroom apartment that you used to share with your sister two bedrooms which are occupied by art supplies and boxes of shit you have no idea about so you just leave there. I want a puppy Mickey.” He whined, again like a little girl this man was.

“Oh now it’s a puppy. Dammit…. Just let me finish here.”

A few minutes later Mickey was hunched over Ian coming blissfully onto his chest as Ian did the same inside of him.

“Alright, five minute power nap, shower, you take me to fucking breakfast and then we talk about your goddamn puppy.” Mickey murmured collapsing next to Ian.

Ian just smiled wiping his chest with Mickey’s shirt before cuddling up to the total softy who couldn’t say no to jack shit.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“Hey it’s his birthday, he get a free cupcake or somethin’?” Mickey mumbled with his mouth full.

The waitress smile. “I’ll see what I can do sir.”

Ian smiled his ankles knotted together with Mickey’s under the table and everything felt immensely perfect.

“Mick my birthday’s over.” He beamed at the thought of his totally arty thug of a boyfriend scheming him a fucking cupcake a Denny’s.

“Hey in some country in the middle of fucking nowhere you probably just turned twenty-four relish in that shit.” He insisted reaching onto Ian’s plate for his bacon.

Ian reached over for Mickey’s fruit and settled into their retrospective meals like always. When Ian reached to hold Mickey’s hand he didn’t even pull away, just threaded their fingers together and went for his coffee.

“I got a meeting with a lady, says she might be able to get some of my shit in this fancy pancy magazine. Might even lead to my own exhibit by myself not just a couple pieces in someone else’s show.”

“Mickey that’s great! I’m so proud of you.” Ian smiled way too wide for such a face to be natural.

Mickey bit his lip to his smile. “It’s alright.”

“No babe this is better than alright. This could be huge for you. This could be your time to show everyone your better than fucking art houses that double as coffee shops. You deserve to be with the fucking Picassos and van Goghs.”  Ian insisted.

“You’re just saying that cause I paint your dick all the time.” Mickey chuckled his cheeks warming from the admiration.

“So I’m a little biased. Doesn’t make you any less fucking awesome. I’m happy for you really.” He smiled.

Mickey tightened his hold on Ian’s hand running the rough pad of his thumb along the red head’s knuckles.

“Thanks. So uh . . . I gotta make a new piece to show her and I was just wondering if maybe you’d pose for me again.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Only if you let me take pictures of you for my photography class though.”

“Deal. I ain’t smiling though.”

“Yea, yea, whatever.”

They ate their breakfast still in a daze from the night before making each other laugh like no one else was capable of. Mickey was making fun of Ian for his dancing the night before, but Ian just gave him a confident grin and told him if he was lucky maybe he’d get a little show sometime. That had shut him right up. They left hand in hand Mickey smoking a cigarette and Ian smiling, smiling all the goddamn time. No one was supposed to be that happy. He was like the sun. Warm and good and pure and Mickey loved to have him by his side.

“Where we going now?” Ian asked nudging Mickey with his hip.

Mickey rolled his eyes smoking flaring from his nostrils like a dragon.

“Time to go get my idiot of a boyfriend a fucking puppy. Come on Gallagher, before I change my mind.”

Ian did that thing where his long ass legs would begin to bounce with every step and Mickey was almost positive he would skip if he could. It was like holding hands with a fucking five year old. Where the idea of getting a dog came from he had no idea, but saying no to that fucking face felt criminal. The last thing he probably needed was a dog getting into all of his shit, but if it would make Ian happy it seemed like a pretty good idea. Until they got their and the dumbass thought they were going to become a home for fucking shelter dogs.

“Oh Mick look at them we can’t just get one, they all need me.” He whined.

Mickey rolled his eyes with arms crossed against his chest. “Nice try. You get one dog. One dog and that’s it. So get on with it.”

“It’s okay you guys. He’s grumpy, but you stick something in his ass and he just brightens right up.” He cooed scratching the ear of a dog.

The guy showing them the dogs coughed seeming to have a little trouble comprehending the concept of gay sex. He’d get Gallagher back for that eventually.

In the end it wasn’t even a fucking puppy. It looked like a wolf. Black with white splotches through his long thick fur and blue eyes similar to Mickey’s. He was kept in a separate cage all to himself because they described him as “aggressive”.  They were gonna put him down yet the second Ian stepped up to the cage and wiggled his fingers the dog just collapsed against the cage licking him for ten minutes. Mickey saw it, watched Ian’s eyes glaze over with love and adoration. Fuck they were getting a wolf.

“Mick I want him.”

“Alright Gallagher you can have him.”

They signed for the dog together and even as they talked Ian through all the struggles that could come with a wolf-dog hybrid the smile never left his face. He wanted his puppy, he got his puppy and that’s all that mattered. To be honest the joint seemed happy to get rid of him, and lord knows Gallagher was happy to rid them of him. With all his vaccinations and shots and shit, they were able to take him home and Mickey was sure that Ian was going to smother the thing to death with love.

“Oh look at him Mick, he’s just scared. He just wants to be loved and cuddled and fed. They didn’t understand you did they buddy?”

“Are we gonna talk about the fact that you are carrying a dog home who has four fucking legs that work just fine and a perfectly good leash already attached to him?”

Ian scoffed at him. “He’s terrified and the city is loud Mickey, I don’t want him running off and getting hit by a car or something. He wants his daddy to hold him dammit.”

“Oh my god what have I done?”

Ian led Mickey to a fucking pet store where he forced Mickey to push the cart while he continued to carry his fucking dog and pile random shit into it as they walked down aisles all the while cooing to the fucking thing like it was his first born child.

“Let’s get you a big old bed so you can be comfy when sleeping next to daddy. Oh here’s a brush to keep you nice and groomed. Some shampoo, ooooo some treats for my good little boy.”

“Thought I was your good little boy.” Mickey mumbled.

Ian raised an eyebrow looking over at Mickey.

“Are you jealous of a dog?”

“Fuck no, just thought that was my nickname is all. Let’s keep it moving Gallagher.”

Ian bit his lip to hide a smile and lowered his new dog into the cart cornering his boyfriend against the kitty litter.

“I’m sorry okay? No one knows how to be my good little boy like you. That’s your spot and no one else’s okay? Plus he’s a dog, so that’s kind of weird.” He whispered kissing the sweet spot at the crook of Mickey’s neck.

“Mkay.”

They reached to kiss each other only to be interrupted by the barking of an obnoxious wolf in the cart. Apparently the new addition to the family didn’t like it too much when anyone other than him had Ian’s attention. Unfortunately Mickey wasn’t too keen on sharing either.

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me.” Mickey spat stalking off towards the other aisle.

“Mick he’s just a daddy’s boy!” Ian cried pushing the car after him.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

“I think I’ll call him Sammy. Sammy and Mickey my two favorite people.” Ian smiled taking up three fourths of the bed with the dog.

Mick rolled his eyes. “Might as well call him a hole in my fucking pocket with how much money we just dropped on his ass.”

“Could you try to be a little more positive? Look he likes you.”

“Oh yea, he likes me huh?”

Mickey walked over to Ian’s side of the bed and Sammy’s head automatically perked up looking suspiciously at the advancing figure. As soon as Mickey crawled into Ian’s lap, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, the dog began to howl a very unpleasant sound. Ian winced slightly rubbing behind Sammy’s ears.

“It’s okay buddy it’s just Mickey. Mickey’s your daddy too now. He doesn’t not like you he just needs attention Mick you saw what that place was like that’s no home for a dog. He just needs to warm up to you.”

“Fuck do I care if he warms up to me or not?” Mickey grumbled.

“Because I care, and you care about me.”

Mickey refused to admit that Ian was right. That night the dog got to sit with them during their usual movie night taking up all the fucking room on Ian’s lap where Mickey usually sat. It was immensely obnoxious. Instead of feeding Mickey popcorn he was giving the dog these stupid ass treats that were ridiculously overpriced. He couldn’t stand it. But he didn’t say anything cause Ian wanted a goddamn puppy so he got him the goddamn puppy and he wasn’t about to be a bitch over a goddamn puppy. Then instead of them showering together and fucking like normal, Ian gave the dog a bath. And by the time Mickey got showered and headed to their room, the dog was sitting smack dap in his fucking spot right next to Ian the little prick.

“Oh no. No! No dog on the bed Ian, that’s my fucking spot.” He ground out through clenched teeth.

Ian raised an eyebrow gesturing to the bed. “Mick there’s like eight feet of room over there and your half that.”

“I don’t want him sleeping on the bed; you bought him a fucking dog bed that’s almost as big as ours he can sleep in that.” He insisted ignoring the height jab.

“Who pissed in your bedtime milk?” He grumbled getting off the bed. “Come on boy, I’ll set your bed up right by the bed.”

Mickey ignored him hopping into bed and fluffing his pillow ready to collapse and ignore the fact that his boyfriend had been stolen from him by a mutt. He wasn’t jealous, he just didn’t see what the big whoop was about a fucking dog is all. He’d always been more of a cat person seeing as how his psychopathic brothers use to terrorize the strays of the neighborhood. Dogs are dumb.

“Mick?” Ian mumbled crawling over to his boyfriend’s side of the bed. “You’re not mad at me are you?”

He sighed. “No Gallahger I just wanna fucking sleep I have work in the morning.”

“You paint for a living….you don’t leave the house. You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Except for the fact that you are.”

“Well yea I’m gonna be mad when you won’t shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ can we sleep?”

“Alright dammit.” Ian huffed pulling away.

The lights were turned off and they both just huffed into silence facing their retrospective sides of the bed. Mickey thought maybe, just maybe Gallagher would let it go and they could go to bed and he could be passive aggressive the way he once was in a world where ginger haired assholes with beautiful sparkling green eyes didn’t change everything. Of course he was wrong though, because it was Ian and Ian was the most talkingest fucker in all of the land. So he rolled over on top of Mickey and straddled him forcing their eyes to lock.

“I don’t wanna go to bed mad at you. I love you and I want you to stop being a dick and love me back.” He demanded.

“Jesus Ian no one said I didn’t love you back, I’m just tired.”

_So Goddamn dramatic._

“No you’re mad cause now we have a dog and the dog likes me and he’s new to this house so he stayed by me tonight which interfered with Mickey and Ian time and I get that. That’s understandable. But don’t shut me out because of it. Yesterday was the best day of my life. No one’s ever done anything like that for me Mickey so don’t fucking ruin it you hear me? Get your ass over here and let me hold you.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow taking in his boyfriend yelling at him for being a little bitch. Gallagher didn’t yell often, but when he did he made it count, and Mickey thought maybe that’s what was more important, fighting only for something you believed in.

“Okay. Come cuddle me dipshit.”

Ian did just that his hands roaming Mickey’s body as they settled in for the night.

“I love you even though you’re a jackass.”

“Yea I love you too.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Mickey had been fumbling with his tie for the past fifteen minutes when Ian finally came to his rescue, Sammy rustling along in tow.

“Is that what I think it is? Is Mickey Milkovich putting on a fucking tie? Your thug status is officially gone.” Ian chuckled shirtless and beautiful.

“Fuck off goddammit.” He growled cranky and irritated. “Stupid meeting’s gonna kill me before I even get there.

“Here, let me.”

Mickey watched on as Ian took the tie in his hands tying it perfectly before smoothing his hands down his chest with a flirtatious smile.

“You look good. Keep it one when you come home, we can fuck on the couch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. You working today?”

He shrugged. “Just a photo shoot around noon. I’ll be back in time to start on dinner. Good luck today.”

“Thanks.”

Ian sighed happily as Mickey leaned in first for their goodbye kiss fingers tracing his jaw and the stubble that had collected their overnight. If it was up to them they’d never leave.

Mickey took the subway up to Manhattan his knees bouncing up and down repeatedly. Somewoman had seen his work through a friend of a friend apparently. She wanted to offer him something substantial. A chance to show more people his work, which is all he really wanted. He’d moved to New York for that specific reason, craving the grungy art scene with its depth and beauty. The more that he worked the more that he thought he could be good, that he might actually have something special. It was people like this woman that engraved that into him, solidified an otherwise questionable idea.

He found himself at another desk in front of this woman named Maria Ballinger with a smile on her mouth and his future in her hands. It was more terrifying than he expected to say the least.

“Mr. Milkovich I have to say I am very impressed with your work. It’s very unique, very personal. And I think it brings something to the table that the art world is lacking right now.”

“Yea and what’s that?” 

“Passion.”  She said simply. “Everything is so dull right now. Your pieces are extremely passionate and moving. I can tell when you love the subject, when you hate it, when there’s frustration or admiration, and that is something that we’re not really getting right now. With technology and photographs it’s so much easier to evict emotion through the lens of a camera then with a paint brush, so I do think you have something really special here. Do you have management?”

He shrugged. “Nah I usually just sell my stuff to whoever wants it. Been in a couple of exhibits, but nothing major. I’m not art museum status if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But you could be. I’m gonna get you in a contact with a woman named Lisa Woodrow. She’s responsible for some of the biggest art exhibits in the city, practically choses whose in and whose not. I think she’ll come in handy when we promote your first show. Meanwhile I want you to put together a portfolio of your best work. The pieces I’ve seen are incredible, and if you wow her it’s a done deal.”

“That’s it? You like . . . want my work?” He asked in confusion. 

She smiled. “I want to be a part of showing your work to the world Mickey, so yes I want your work.”

She gives him all this information about management and this Lisa chick. They spend some more time looking at pieces of his work from the last exhibit he did and she’s so intrigued that it makes Mickey’s chest fill with pride. He’s finally done something right, something good and it’s a fucking amazing feeling. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he thought that maybe, just maybe something really good was about to happen.

So he invited Mandy over to eat left over cake and take out while sitting next to Ian and Sammy in his studio as they went through every piece of art he had. There was a painting of his mother from when he and Mandy were still kids that made it into the pile. Ian didn’t say anything when Mickey gave him that look that said he didn’t wanna talk about it. A piece he did with nothing but his fingers and acrylic paints while on ecstasy made it in, as did the painting of the street lamp you could see out the window when he did LSD one time. Every piece came with a story and whether the memory was good or bad he loved his work.

“Where’s the one of us in the tub?” Ian asked.

Mandy groaned around her cake. “Are there really pictures of you two fucking each other in water in paint form?”

Mickey flipped her off digging through his racks before he pulled out a piece that he’d done in water colors and black pen. It was one of Ian’s favorites.

“Anyone would love that. My man’s a fucking artistic genius.” He beamed proudly.

“Oh speaking of sex I never got to show you this one.” Mickey mumbled heading over to his big stacks of canvas.

He set it up on the biggest easel he had and stepped back to catch Ian’s reaction. It was Ian after sex. His long limbed, pale body stretched gingerly across their bed in a plethora of messy sheets. Mickey had painted everything from the star like freckles across his shoulders to the long red streaks of nails digging down his back.  Ian’s lips were still swollen red, and his face looked peaceful as he slept. It was a gorgeous painting.

“Wow Mick . . . that’s amazing.” Ian smiled.

Mickey shrugged swiping his thumb along his bottom lip nervously.

“It ain’t bad.”

Mandy scoffed. “Oh shut the fuck up, it’s great Mickey.”

“It is isn’t it?” He chuckled letting a goofy grin take over his features.

Ian loved him like that. Happy and content and showing pride in himself. To him a Mickey that knew he worthy of anything was the best kind of Mickey.

“I hereby give you permission to show the world what I look like when I pass out after sex.”

Mickey laughed, throaty and loud and real. “Yea, okay. I love you asshole.”

“Love you too.”

Mickey left to go get more beer leaving Ian and Mandy to sort through more of the work. There was some stuff that he drew, but painting was always his thing so his racks were filled to the brim with art. They went through lethargically, taking their time with each and every piece. It was during this time that Ian came across something he’d never seen before. It was one of the darker paintings, no reds or yellows but varying shades of dusk. At the center was a face he didn’t recognize, an inhuman looking thing that somehow managed to send shivers down his spine. It was more abstract, Mickey’s usual style, and he seemed to use the blackness and the space to create this terrifying images of bones and flesh.

“Hey what do you think this is?” He asked nudging Mandy.

She looked over at the piece her eyes quickly widening before emotion was wiped clean of her face all together.

“That’s nothing, put that away.”

He didn’t get a chance before Mickey was strolling back into the room. Mandy act quickly snatching the piece from Ian’s hands and shoving it deep into the stack as if to rid the room of its darkness.

“Everything okay?” Mickey asked.

“Yea, just wondering how many times you’ve tried to paint Ian’s eyes.” Mandy taunted lightly causing the painting to become a distant memory.

But the thought never really left Ian’s mind. He really wanted to know what it was, and what made it important enough to create. Because as they looked through Mickey’s work of Ian and Mandy and sites of the city that he loved and things that he felt for whether it was love or hate, Ian realized something. If it was there it had substance in Mickey’s life, and if something that dark has substance what was it, and what had it ever done to Mickey?

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

When Mickey doesn’t get out of bed it’s not nearly as worrying as Ian’s experience. He doesn’t twitch at all when Mickey rolls away from his kiss, just takes Sammy out for a run before heading off to work like normal. Svetlana had a shoot set up for him for some fancy magazine and he enjoys it. The photographer is excited and pumped up and even answers Ian’s questions about the pictures he takes. He’s so used to posing with a woman draped over him that it doesn’t even feel weird as this point. It’s just work.

“I’m in a class now. My boyfriend bought me this to congratulate me on Fashion week actually. I like taking pictures of people though you know? Learning how people feel through the image. It makes things simpler I think.”

“I totally know what you’re talking about. Why don’t’ you give me your number, you can send me some of your stuff, and I’ll send it around for you. Start getting your bearings and all.”

“Really? Wow, yea uh, sure.”

Ian left work that day on cloud nine, and his photography class was just as good. It was so much more interesting than calculus and analytical theories. Just him and his camera learning something new and exciting, capturing a tiny moment in the world and making it something bigger.  And when it was all set and done the person he wanted to run to and talk about his day with was Mickey.

“Mickey you won’t believe the day I had today!” He yelled once he got into their apartment.

He set his camera bag down before going in search of his boyfriend. It was a little weird not to find Mickey in his studio, which is where he’d been spending a majority of his time ever since that lady offered him the possibility of management. On top of that it didn’t look like he’d touched his latest piece at all. Instead Mickey was still in bed, curled up on his side not having moved since Ian left that morning.

“Oh no you’re not sick are you?” Ian murmured crawling into bed and taking Mickey into his arms. “Mick?”

“D—Don’t touch me.”

“What?” Ian chuckled humorlessly. “I doubt you’re that contagious.”

“I’m serious Gallagher get the fuck away from me.” He sniffled.

“What happened? Mickey, what’s wrong?”

Ian was quickly shoved over the bed with an audible grunt from Mickey. He stared at his boyfriend in shock wincing slightly at the pain from where Mickey had shoved him.

“What the fuck Mickey!”

“I said get the fuck off me didn’t I? Jesus I don’t want your goddamn filthy hands on me you got it?!”

Not giving Ian a change to even process his words let alone form a response Mickey shoved out of bed yanking on jeans and a jacket. He stormed out of the room fast leaving a shocked Ian and barking Sammy behind. And he didn’t know what to feel. He felt hurt, he felt pissed, and confused and worried. Mickey had never so forcefully pushed him away before especially not when they were already together. He sat there for a second feeling stung, the rejection falling over him in waves. They’d just gotten through Ian’s latest episode and he thought things were good. Thought Sammy, Mickey, and he were okay. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Mickey was more hurt than he let on. Maybe Mickey wasn’t able to handle Ian after all.

But that didn’t stop him from going after him because he loved Mickey, and because no matter what Mickey had been there when he needed it. He didn’t actually know where to look though. Mickey didn’t really go anywhere. He liked his art and his boyfriend and pretty much hated everything else, which Ian found adorable when it didn’t stop him from finding the jackass. Now it was just a little irritating. He check Mandy’s place but no one was home, and she wasn’t answering her phone. Neither was her dickhead of a brother.

“Mickey you needed to answer the fucking phone so I know you’re safe. I need to know you’re okay . . .  Call me back dammit!”

It became a vicious cycle of frantic voicemails and looking at every street corner for his weird short ass boyfriend. He checked the park, their pizza place, their Chinese place, their Tai place. (They had a lot of food places). He even checked the fucking super market. It seemed as if he’d fallen off the face of the planet or at least New York. And the darker it got the darker his thoughts got. He just knew something bad had happened.

“Michael fucking Milkovich I swear to God I’m going to kill you. I’m scared. You are a tiny ex thug turned artist and I need to know that you’re alive. Fuck you for putting me through this shit I swear. Fuck you!”

But it left him no closer to finding Mickey and no ease on the terror inside of him. He was wondering whether or not he should call the police when his phone rang. Thank fucking god.

“Hey you can come get your boyfriend now.” Mandy said calmly.

“Where the fuck is he?! And why the fuck haven’t either of you been answering your phones Mandy, what the fuck!”

She sighed. “He made me promise not to answer okay? Look he’ll explain later I’m sure of it. We’re at the bar.”

“Jesus fuck, why didn’t I think of that? I’m on my way I’ll take a cab.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Mickey was in bad shape by the time Ian showed up. He’d collapsed with half of his body hanging off the bar and a bottle still grasped firmly in his hand. Mandy was cleaning glasses and keeping the other customers in line. She’d been listening to her brother complain about Ian’s hair for the fifth time that hour and Ian! His Ian over and over again.  She might have killed him had Ian not shown up when he did.

“Jesus Christ take him home already.”

Mickey attempted to lift his head only to find out that it was a lot heavier than he remembered it previously being.

“You gave him an entire bottle of whiskey?!” Ian groaned.

“He brought that with him thank you very much. I’m not responsible for my dickhead of a brother.”

He sighed. “Nope I guess that would be me. Come on Mick let’s get you home.”

“F—uck off dude.” Mickey burped.

“You gotta be drunk if you just called me dude. Yea I totally don’t have time for this.” Ian grunted quickly picking Mickey up and slinging him over his shoulder. “And if you vomit on me I’m totally making your ass sleep on the couch.”

“Speaking of asses yours is fucking beautiful.” Mickey chuckled. “Don’t tell my Ian I said that.”

“Oh I cannot wait until you sober up.”

Ian managed to get Mickey home without anyone getting arrested or puked on. Mickey, although he usually held his liquor really well, was absolutely gone. The bottle of whiskey having been empty by the time Ian came to get him probably had something to do with it. He didn’t seem to remember that they’d argued or what the argument had even been about. He rambled on and on about random shit the entire time until Ian was helping into bed and pulling at his clothes. Mickey had next to no energy but all of a sudden he was trying to push weakly at Ian’s advances.

“Not here man dad might fuckin see.” He paused to burp something that sounded very close to vomiting but Ian was frozen at the words. “You know what I don’t even care man, fuck what my dad says I like things up my ass. Especially your thing. I’m fucking good at it too. You should see me daddy I’m fucking good at it! But he hates it,” Another pause for belching. “Hates his faggot of a son more than the fucking blacks. He hates me. My fucking dad literally hates my guts, how fucked up is that?”

“Mickey…” Ian mumbled, dazed and confused.

“Don’t. Daddy might hear how much I liked what I am. Just might have to finish the job. I’m tired though and everything’s spinning.” He chuckled.

He fell asleep after that without giving Ian a chance to really react. It left him worried and scared and a little fucking pissed of that something so dark and toxic and demented got to be a part of Mickey, his Mickey. All Ian wanted was to protect him, to give a good life of sex and love and appreciation. It’s not that simple. Maybe they thought they’d leave Southside and everything would be better instantly, but it wasn’t. Ian thought he was fucked up but Mickey was too, just in a different way. It was unfair and it upset him to see Mickey so affected by his father, yet he knew that if Mickey could be there for him when he was literally out of his mind he could most definitely return the favor.

_Ian: Why was Mickey talking about Terry before he fell asleep?_

_Mandy: Shit he didn’t get a chance to tell you huh?_

_Ian: No, obviously not._

_Mandy: Look today’s the anniversary of the day Terry almost killed my brother for being gay so he likes to get drunk and forget he’s gay and despised by his own piece of shit father alright?_

Even through text he can sense the hostility, this blatant need to protect her brother from any sense of criticism and he gets it. There was a part of Mickey that Ian didn’t really know yet, another thing that made him the way that he was. And as much as Ian craved to know this man inside and out he was actually terrified of what that specific facet would hold.

He put his phone off to the side curling up next to Mickey, with Sammy curled up between them, taking his body in his hands. His heart felt heavy staring at him as he slept. It was the only time Mickey ever looked completely at peace, entirely void of all stress. He leaned into Ian’s touch and Ian couldn’t help but hope Mickey knew just how loved and appreciated he was.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Ian woke up similarly to when his moods had stabilized almost forgetting everything that had taken place the night before, only for it all to come rushing back. Mickey was in his studio once again working on something Ian couldn’t quite piece together yet, the canvas from yesterday gone. When Mickey noticed Ian he set his paints down and turned on his stool to give Ian his full attention.

“Hey.” Mickey mumbled.

“Hey.”

He sighed. “Look I’m sorry about yesterday alright? Just had  . . . a bad day.”

Ian uncrossed his arms from his chest leaving his position against the doorway to walk to mickey and take a spot between the smaller man’s legs. He didn’t lean away or curl his lip in disgust which was a good sign, but he didn’t even care in that moment. He reached out running his hands up Mickey’s arms and over his shoulders. He took Mickey’s face in his hands slipping the rough pads of his thumbs along his boyfriend’s cheeks. It was so incredibly intimate, that Mickey had to fight not to pull away. He struggled to meet Ian’s stare while still having trouble looking away.

“ _Mickey_.”

And the sound of his name coming from that man’s lips is so sweet and sincere that he shutters. It’s light and he taunts him with it letting the letters drip from his tongue causing that familiar stirring in his gut.

“You are good. You’re good and you’re worthy and I love you dammit. You deserve to be happy more than anyone I’ve ever met, and there is **_nothing_** fucking wrong with you do you understand me?”

Those green fucking eyes with specs of gold and hazel that Mickey’d been trying to recreate with paint for almost a year now stare at him and they rip him to shreds where he sits. He felt the burning in his eyes, but Gallagher won’t let him look away, so he sniffles in front of his boyfriend blinking back tears and years and years of abuse. He’s got someone who loves him, wants him, fucking thinks he deserves happiness so yea it tugs at his heart strings a little bit.

“I’m fine.” He whispers out of reflex.

Ian gives him a look he isn’t used to getting and it takes him a minute to place it. It’s not pity, not sarcasm, or anger, or disgust. It’s worry. It’s sincerity. It’s . . . compassion.

“You don’t have to be fine. It’s okay to not be okay. I’m here. Jesus Mickey I’m right here for you.”

His palm is rough on his cheek and Mickey feels the relief flooding his system.

“My Mickey.” He murmured leaning into kiss him.

He knew that he was his, and Ian was his as well. They belonged to each other in such a way that it kept both of them whole when it felt as though their worlds might fall apart.  Mickey felt safe in Ian’s arms, the warmth engulfing him in his own personal bubble. He loved Ian. Fucking hell he loved him.

They do the closest thing to making love that Mickey’s ever experienced right on the floor on a paint covered blanket and he thinks that he likes it too fucking much. Unlike that night on Ian’s birthday the roles reserved and it was Ian trying to making Mickey feel good. It’s also a little poetic that that’s where they do it, in that room where everything started for the two of them. Ian’s grips him so rough yet it’s tender and it keeps him together despite tears burning his eyes the entire time. He wonders how anyone could call what they were doing wrong, that anything that good could possibly be bad. Ian loved him like he’d never been loved before. His kiss hit lightly on his neck and up his throat making him feel weightless.

“I’m late for work again.  Svetlana’s gonna have my ass.” He murmured into mickey’s neck.

“Fuck her.” Mickey keened legs tightening possessively around his back. “Stay here.”

Ian ran a finger along Mickey’s jaw. “You wanna go out for dinner tonight? Get away from the apartment?”

Mickey just nodded thankful that he didn’t have to say anything, and Ian just knew.

While Mickey thought that it was over, that Ian had taken away all the fear and that they no longer needed to speak of the subject, Ian was just trying to figure out how best to bring it up again. They took Sammy out for a walk so that Mickey could chain smoke and get some fresh air, which seemed redundant even to him. Sammy and Mickey were at standstill, Mickey ignoring the dog and the dog ignoring Mickey. Every now and again they would fight for Ian’s affection though Ian deemed it completely unnecessary, but other than that it was as if neither of them was aware of the other’s existence. They stopped for hot dogs in the park Sammy running off to play while his daddy and arch nemesis sat on a bench watching him. Ian pulled Mickey into his side forcefully, and Mickey felt too emotionally tired to fight him on it. So they sat, Mickey’s head on his shoulder enjoying the peaceful silence for as long as possible. Leave it to Gallagher to fucking ruin that.

“Mick . . . I think we should talk.”                                     

Mickey just shrugged him off. “The fuck for? I already apologized.”

“Mandy told me alright? I know what yesterday was.”

Mickey went stiff immediately, processing the betrayal from his sister. He didn’t know what to do with the anger boiling inside of him. His teeth snapped audibly together, a metallic like taste forming in his mouth.

“Fuckin’ bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Hey,” Ian demanded getting his attention. “I’m here; you don’t have to be ashamed Mickey.”

The other man just laughed bitter putting distance between them.

“I’m not fucking ashamed. Of anything you hear me? Back the fuck off Ian you’re pushing it.”

“I’m just trying to be there for you. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be there for me I want you to drop it. Now.”

Ian relented taking Mickey’s fingers and intertwining them with his. He couldn’t let it go no matter how hard he tried. It was too important.

“Mickey . . . your father had some Russian whore rape you because you’re gay. That’s fucking terrible. You’re tough, I know you are you’re so tough it’s ridiculous, but you don’t have to be afraid to be hurt. That doesn’t make you any less of a man. No one’s gonna strip you of your masculinity because you feel. This isn’t something someone should ever have to deal with and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let you deal with it alone.”

“I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.” Mickey mumbled.

“I know you don’t want to, but maybe you need to. I mean this could be PTSD or something. Laura could really help—”

Mickey tore his hands away from Ian’s as if he’d been shocked forcing in his boyfriend into stunned silence in the middle of the park.

“You callin’ me a fucking nut job now?!”

“N—No I-It’s not like that.”

“Fuck you Gallagher.” He yelled shoving Ian against the bench. “I’m not like you. I’m fucking fine.”

Ian sat for a second in stunned silence as Mickey stomped away. His words had managed to rip through Ian leaving him defenseless and hurt. It was hard to get in fights with Mickey, because he almost never fought fair. He was vindictive and spiteful, but Ian was able to see through it just barely. Below it all was someone who was hurt, who was so used to going through everything alone that he didn’t know how to ask for help. Ian managed to grab Sammy and head back to the house guessing that he’d have to head out on foot to find Mickey again.

He sighed. “I love that man to death but I swear he’ll be the death of me.”

Sammy just barked in response.

“Yea, but he needs us now more than ever. Whenever he pushes me away is when I have to fight the hardest.”

He expected Mickey to be gone by the time he got home, but instead he’d headed for his studio slamming himself inside. Mickey didn’t like to talk about himself and his own problems, Ian knew that but the pain of watching his boyfriend suffer was too much not to push. He couldn’t let him hurt in silence, he didn’t know how he’d sleep at night.

Mickey didn’t come out of his studio all day. The door wasn’t locked, but Ian never barged in. He just wanted to focus on his art, the one thing that constantly made sense, never betrayed him in times of need. Instead it was his mind that betrayed him, images of Terry towering over him, pummeling him into the ground, blood and teeth on pavement. He blinked trying to shake the image but he couldn’t. Suddenly his hands were trembling, moving quicker against his canvas. He doesn’t see what’s forming because the images block out everything else. It’s just him and Terry and no one can save him, no one can protect him from the monster of his nightmares. It digs at him. It’s fear and shame coursing through his veins. Shame for being different, for letting another man’s body cover his. It’s wrong. It’s immoral. It’s inhuman. And there’s no defending that when Terry gets a hold of him.

When he finished he blinked letting his mind refocus on the canvas. The familiar face peering out at him made him burn with hatred. Mickey pulled away from the painting feeling the familiar sting in his eyes. Struggling for control he stumbled into the shower his skin itchy and the hot water doing nothing to fix it. Ian wasn’t there to hold him under the spray and squeeze out all the pain from his body. He needed that feeling, needed to get away from the fears boiling within his head, but he was too scared and filled with pride to tell Ian to hold him.

Ian was in their bed when Mickey crawled in, facing away from his boyfriend and staring at the wall. Even though Mickey couldn’t articulate how he felt, he was damn good at his actions, wrapping himself around Gallagher from behind. Ian winced at how tight Mickey held on to him but didn’t say a word. If that was all it would take for comfort goddammit he’d give it to him.

They didn’t speak, Ian listening as Mickey tried to sleep tossing and whimpering into Ian’s back. It was a nightmare. The very root of everything Mickey had ever feared or worried about looking at him with disgust. Mickey clenched his teeth biting at his lip as the vision played behind his lids. He was above him beating him into the ground telling him that the life he’d built was a sham, that he could never get away from what he really was inside, a _fag_ , a disgrace to the Milkovich name.

“No son of mine’s gonna be a pole smokin’ queer you worthless sack of shit.” He grunted ramming the toe of his boot into Mickey’s face.

“D—Dad stop.” Mickey cried blood gurgling in his throat forcing the words to come out jumbled and incomprehensible.

He was trying to keep his hands raised above his face to block the blows but he was weak, and they swayed limply like the blow of the wind would send them falling down.

“You still a fag? You still take it up the ass like a fucking girl?!” He growled delivering another blow to his ribs this time. “You fucking disgust me!”

“Please! P—Please! ”He coughed more blood spewing from his lips.

Mickey lurched forward then gasping for air, his entire body shaking as sweat poured profusely over his back and shoulders. Something latched on to Mickey’s wrist and he knew that it wasn’t over. His dad would leave without finishing the job and cowered in fear a sob pouring from his throat.

“Mickey! Mickey it’s me!”

His eyes zeroed on auburn hair and pale skin and he just flew to it. Collapsing into Ian’s arm he gripped and dug into his partner’s flesh terrified that he’d let him go, let the monster get him. Ian gripped Mickey tighter than ever before hushing him softly and rocking him the way he used to with Liam. His shirt was stained with salt water as he held Mickey all throughout the night just wanted desperately for things to be better.

*                                                                                                    *                                                                                       *

 

Waking up the next morning was hell for Mickey. Somehow being in Ian’s arms helped him sleep through the night, but he managed to wake up to being cushioned in between eight feet of pale ginger, and a slobbering dog laying on his fucking pillow. The memory hits him hard and rough, like a fuck with no lube, but there’s no pleasure there. At the heart of it is Ian. It’s like there’s Terry standing there big and luminous with his dark shadow ready to drag Mickey under, and there’s Ian standing in front of Mickey with rays of sunshine and his obnoxious fucking smile. Like nothing could ever hurt him if Ian Gallagher had something to say about it.                     

He sighed at the realization that Ian was so much stronger than him, that he was weak and pathetic in comparison cowering in fear at a person who had no idea where he even was. He didn’t move though. Instead he curled closer into Ian’s side keeping his eyes on the content face before him and running his fingers through his hair. It was the first time he’d dreamed of Terry since last year. They always came in pulsing flashbacks but it was never precise enough for him to pinpoint. One year he’d been fucking Grocery shopping when a man had walked passed him cussing at his kid and Mickey had to call Mandy to come pick him up when his legs forgot they were legs. One time he’d been hooking up with a guy and all of a sudden his fucking dad was there, he could just hear his voice in his ear. It took him forever to get passed that shit. Ian was his first relationship, his first commitment to someone to let them in. But how could he let Ian into something so ugly and dark, how could he put the most important person in his life through the same hell that he’d endured? It didn’t seem fair.

When Ian woke up Mickey was still staring, still stroking his hair. Ian just looked at him for a minute with hesitant eyes. It made Mickey nervous to be held under that gaze. He was so tired, so, so done of discussing the inter working of his brain that even he didn’t understand. Ian had been trained to talk about shit and to have heart to hearts about his feelings. That’s not how Mickey was though, and he didn’t know if he ever could be no matter how good it might be for him.

“Good morning.” Ian croaked.

Mickey nodded subconsciously squirming his way deeper into the comfortable presence of his boyfriend’s arms. He was warm and bright, and Mickey needed that. He needed reassurance and protection despite his inability to acknowledge that. He didn’t need to talk, didn’t want to talk about why he sobbed into his lover’s arms like a child the night before. He had to be strong; it was the only he knew. It was the only thing his piece of shit father had engraved in him. Milkovich men weren’t bitches.

“You work today?” He whispered.

Ian shook his head softly. “Talked to Svet yesterday, we had a meeting but we’re gonna skype instead.”

“You don’t have to stay cause of me.” He lied.

_But you better fucking stay cause I need you so bad right now it hurts._

“I want to. You want me to go?”

Mickey closed his eyes pressing his head into Ian’s neck to hide the tremor that rocked his body. “No.”

It’s stiff and desperate and it hangs heavily in the air. Ian’s arms tighten in response.

“Are you okay?”

“’m fine. Gotta finish the portfolio today.”

Ian nodded doing that thing where he rubbed the stress from Mickey’s body without him realizing it. He’d touch him softly fingers massaging his scalp and running over his shoulders to calm him down. It always felt so good that Mickey could never tell him to stop. And after the night before, fuck he needed it.

“Can Sammy and I help?” He mumbled fingers trailing Mickey’s spine.

“Only if you make breakfast.” Mickey mumbled.

“I can do that. We could have a movie day after? Maybe just lay low today.”

“That sounds . . . nice.”

Ian smiled. “Okay.”

Mickey didn’t wanna walk on eggshells with Ian he wanted to move on, forget that the past couple of days had ever happened. But his recent round in the metaphorical ring with his father had left him exhausted, and emotionally drained. A day with his boyfriend and his rude ass dog didn’t seem so bad.

Before Mickey could reach to pull himself out of bed Ian’s fingers threaded themselves into his hair pulling him close. He kissed him slow and hard not pulling away despite Mickey’s hesitant lips. He tried desperately to remember that it wasn’t wrong. Loving Ian could never be wrong. It felt too fucking good. And it felt as though Ian was reminded him, re-teaching his body what it ultimately wanted. They lie there time moving slowly as Mickey re-familiarized himself with Ian’s body. It never moved beyond that, and it didn’t have to. They just kissed, their bodies becoming intertwined on the bed. Mickey wanted to soak him into his bones, to never forget the feeling of Ian again.

“I love you Mickey.” He breathed against his lips.

“Me too, I love you too.”

Getting out bed means maybe Mickey can leave those last couple days behind him. He fed the dog while Ian started on breakfast, light and buoyant as ever after the seriousness of their start to the day. Mickey appreciated the fact that he didn’t treat him different, didn’t give him silent sideways glances as if waiting for him to snap again. It made him think maybe that’s how Ian used to feel, having his family stare at him waiting for him to do the same things his mother used to do. That reminded him of the fiasco in the park yesterday, and what a piece of shit he was for acting how he did. He wanted to apologize. But then again he didn’t wanna bring it up. He chose to wrap his arms around Ian’s middle pressing his face into the warmth of Ian’s back as he cooked.

“I’m sorry alright? For everything.” He mumbled. “I’m just not ready to talk about it with anyone, not just you. I trust you and all that shit I just . . . it’s hard.”

Ian’s fingers touched his hand lovingly. “That’s okay just… when you are ready tell me, because I wannabe there for you Mick. I don’t wanna see you hurt. Ever. Especially not because of that piece of shit.”

He sighed. “Yea, alright.”

They spend the morning finishing Mickey’s portfolio for Lisa Woodrow. At the beginning was a painting of dark, abstract shapes that were beautiful, but scattered. No rhyme or reason as to why they existed which Mickey thought represented him when first moving to New York. But at the end was a painting of Ian and Mickey thought that if you looked at it you could see the whole world through his own eyes, because nothing in the world mattered like Ian. And that made him feel a lot better about things. Without his dad’s voice in his ear it was easy to remember what Ian represented for him. This beacon of hope and light and love. And he couldn’t imagine giving that up for anything. So he tries….

“I uh I painted this one of the first nights we moved here. Mandy had gotten drunk and I could hear her crying in her room over him. He treated me and my brothers like shit but . . . it was always worse for her. Because he didn’t treat her terribly all the time; he didn’t hit her or call her names for the hell of it. He abused her willingness to like—love. And sometimes I think I’ll never understand what he put her through, but I try. And it hurts to, to imagine him doing to her what he did to me. I hate him so fucking much. If he died today I’d show up at his funeral to spit on the casket but . . . I just can’t fucking let him go. I can push him back, I can fucking drink my way around him, but he always comes back no matter how far I run. Sometimes it seems pointless.”

Ian looked at the painting that Mandy had hidden a few days ago running his fingers along the rough, angry brush strokes. It broke his fucking heart imagining the two people he treasured in the world being hurt by this same infection, this plague inducing disease on their lives. In that moment it didn’t matter that Mickey Milkovich hated physical contact and emotional shit cause Ian felt like he might cry and hugs were better than crying in just about anyone’s book. So he hugged Mickey Milkovich. He grabbed him and hugged him squeezing in all the right places and pushing Mickey’s head softly to his shoulder. He meant it when he said it was okay to hurt, that it okay to not be ready to let go, but he almost meant it when he said he just wanted to be there for him. He loved Mickey. And when Mickey hurt it felt like a chunk of him was hurting too.

He didn’t want to tell Mickey that it would be okay, that everything was gonna get better, and rainbows and fucking sunshine would appear. Real life just doesn’t work that way and they both know it. The thing is though that Ian and Mickey related to each other so easily. They had this way of sort of understanding one another in way that neither of them had ever experienced with anyone else before. So he didn’t have to feed him some bullshit sense of enlightenment. He just fed him that connection that they shared working to soothe him as he spoke.

“That’s kind of how I felt when Frank came back. Like I’d spent all this time running just for him to show up right when things were finally starting to go right. I mean we’d broken up but you were still in my life and I’d take that over nothing ya know? And it fucking sucks cause he’s always got this grip on you, pulling you back into some false sense of reality when you feel good. It’s hard determining what’s real and what’s not, what it’s okay to feel and what isn’t. I think it’s our minds way of pinching ourselves to check if we’re awake. And you and me, we’re so used to being dealt shitty hands that we automatically assume that we weren’t awake and that everything was too good to be true.” He whispered.

Mickey sniffled grateful to be hidden in Ian’s arms so that he doesn’t have to show what he’s feeling. His voice betrays him though cracking under the pain and the fear.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do then?”

“I don’t know. Four years of therapy later and I don’t fucking know. But I’m here. And you’re here, and we’re together and we love each other and I feel so fucking awake right now Mick, and I don’t know if I am but even if I’m not I don’t wanna be anything that means I don’t get you, so I say fuck pinching our sides and lets just dream.”

It doesn’t sound bad. Living with Ian in this constant state of recuperated love sounded like everything Mickey would want to dream of. He just wanted to stay there with Ian forever in his fucking studio with his paints and his canvas and his boyfriend holding him to make the pain go away. There’s no complications. There’s nothing to think about or obsess over. It’s just Mickey and Ian, the most simple and wonderful thing he can imagine. So he worms himself deeper into Ian’s arms and he reaches to hold him back taking a leap of faith and shoving Terry back into the fucking hole of his mind where he belongs.

“Fine. Let’s just dream.”

 

 

 


	18. Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know we have to go back right?”  
> “Go where?”  
> “Southside. Fiona wants us there for Thanksgiving.”  
> Mickey automatically groaned. “So basically she wants you there and you’re forcing me to tag along?”  
> Ian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be difficult. She’s already mad that I skipped out on Halloween and my birthday. We have to go for Thanksgiving or else they’ll think I’ve run off and eloped.”  
> “Like I’d elope with your ass.” Mickey scoffed before launching into another round of complaining. “They don’t even like me. Your brother thinks I’m an ignorant hoodlum who likes to finger paint and hurt you. Your goddamn sister thinks I’m some drunk idiot who has nothing better to do than fuck her little brother on her couch. And the one whose balls have barely dropped with the psychopathic tendencies and way too much interest in our dicks only likes me because he wants me to buy him a gun and magnums. And no offence but I highly doubt he’s packing like you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because i know you guys like smut and because i'm trying to get better at it....Also it's just a really easy way to start a chapter. Hope you like it lmao

Mickey was currently in a very compromising position. He wasn’t sure how he ended up with a dick in his mouth while simultaneously getting his dick sucked as well, but he chose not to question life with Ian Gallagher because it almost always made things more complicated.  Ian was being very loud with the things he was doing, fingers curling to find that spot that would drive Mickey up a wall and moaning as he deep throated the cock in front of him. Mickey lurched upright crying out into the stale air of their bedroom involuntarily rutting his hips back against Ian’s fingers. This somehow turned Ian on more than he fucking knew what to do with cause Firecrotch launch right into dom mode.

“That’s it fuck yourself on my fingers. How’s it feel?” He groaned adding a third finger.

“Oh shit Ian,” Mickey whined gripping Ian’s legs for leverage as he continued to rock himself back. “that’s so fucking good.”

“That’s it, that’s it Mickey. You take it so fucking well. Can’t wait to watch my cum drip out your hole when I’m done with you.”

Mickey cried out arching his back at the thought of Ian bare backing him, of making him his and dictating his body in sick and beautiful ways. He wanted Ian to own him, to bruise his hips so fucking good he could feel it in his bones. He wanted to be fucked and rutted and pounded. Ian just so happened to want to give him exactly that.

When Ian knocked Mickey off him crawling between the dark haired man’s legs he praised him like he always did. He had an act for making Mickey feel special and wonderful, like he was this rare, beautiful thing before he would fuck him like a whore. Mickey fucking liked it too, liked anything that came out of Ian’s mouth apparently.

“Who’s my good boy huh?” He moaned against Mickey’s throat licking and biting at the skin.

“Shit, I am. Just me, and nobody else.”

Because even when he’s submissive he fucking knows what’s his and he ain’t in to sharing that’s for damn sure.

“Just you and nobody else baby. Fuck I want you so bad.” Ian whined rutting himself against Mickey touching his body gently and getting them all wild up. “I wanna fuck you into the headboard all night long. I want everyone in this building to know who you belong to. You’re mine. Goddammit Mick I need you, can I have you?”

“Fuck yes. I’m yours, take me.” Mickey whimpered.

It’s lube and pre-cum that slick Mickey’s ass up enough to take everything that Gallagher’s packing. He’s big, bigger than Mickey had ever been used to, and it still burns just slightly when he shoves it in causing Mickey’s eyes to roll back into his skull. And on a night like that night Ian wasn’t shy about it, he gave it to Mickey like you wouldn’t believe taking the bed with him on every thrust of his hips. It was magical the things that man could do with his dick and Mickey just held on for the ride doing anything that Ian pleased just as long he kept giving it to him fast and hard.

“You’re not loud enough,” Ian grunted swirling his hips so that he touched Mickey’s prostate. “come on scream for me baby.”

The sad part is that it’s not even hard to comply. Ian’s so fucking good with his hips and his words that he has Mickey crying out within seconds. Fingers clenching at the wood of their headboard needing something to keep him grounded, Mickey screamed. He moaned and cried and gasped and he begged for everything Ian was giving. Ian was too fucking hot for his own good and Mickey was hell bent on taking full advantage.

“Oh god . . . yes Mickey f—uck say my name.” 

Mickey didn’t even realize the words stumbling out of his mouth until Ian got hot from it, and then just wanted to keep going, wanted to satisfy Ian just as much as he was satisfying him. His name feels tingly on his lips and they’re so close their bodies ramming together with every thrust that Mickey feels like he’s painting the words against Ian’s skin. He moaned the two syllables holding such weight for the two of them as they fucked and groped one another. Ian can’t stand how good it feels to hear his name, can only fuck Mickey’s harder shoving his legs up so that he’s almost bent it half and pounding at him with rough grunts and dragging sighs.

“Gonna cum… Shit gonna cum so fucking hard in your ass.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Ian.”

Ian’s fingers reached for his cock pumping and spitting and driving Mickey crazy all the while still ramming himself into his prostate like it’s a fucking necessity. Neither of them had a chance in hell.

“OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.” Ian whined pumping himself into Mickey’s as his orgasm takes over.

They collapsed on top of each other in a mess of tangled limbs and sweat dripping skin. Jesus Christ nothing had ever felt so good.

 

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Usually when people would knock on the door early in the fucking morning Mickey could very easily ignore it and shove a pillow over his head until it stopped. Then Ian had to go and adopt a fucking alarm clock of a fucking dog and have the nerve to be the sleepingest motherfucker in all of the land. That is why Mickey stumbled to the door at seven o’clock in the morning with nothing but a hand to scratch as his balls and a cigarette between his lips.

“What the fuck?” He groaned sliding his head out the door.

There was a dude standing there in a suit and tie that looked like he was gonna choke on his own tongue and Mickey was positive that it was way too fucking early for that shit.

“IAN! DOOR!”

He stumbled back into bed kicking Ian with his feet and hitting him with a pillow.

“What the fuccccck Mickey stop.” He whined.

“Stop being a little bitch and go answer the door dammit, it’s for you.” He lied, rolling over.

Ian groaned pulling himself out of bed and blindly reaching for something to cover his cock on his way towards the door. He had a raging case of sex hair and his body was covered in hickeys and small bruises from Mickey holding on too tight, and shit did Ian love the sight of them.

“I’m sorry can I help you?” He yawned.

“Yes. I’m uh your neighbor from right across the hall there and I have to ask that you please keep it down over here at night. As you can see I have to be at work very early and well . . . the walls are thin my friend.”

Ian raised an eyebrow slowly catching on. “Oh shit. Oh fuck I’m sorry. Across the hall, you can really hear us all the way across the hall?”

“The entire floor can hear you, some on the one below too. You’ve become kind of infamous here.” The man blushed.

“Damn.” He just looked amused now. “Well uh I guess we’ll try and keep the noise down then. I apologize for keeping the entire floor up. Probably best if it’s still a problem to find me not Mickey. Mickey’s a little grumpy in the morning . . . and the afternoon… well and quite frankly the evening.”

“Oh uh alright. T—Thank you.” He mumbled.

The guy was so red Ian decided to relieve him of his misery and shut the door. Surprisingly being alerted that everyone could hear him fucking his boyfriend at night didn’t make him wanna be any less loud. Ian was an exhibitionist at heart if you asked Mickey, who became suddenly not so tired when his crazy ass boyfriend crawled beneath their covers to give him morning head. He knew there had to be some reason he kept that ginger tree around.

They fell back to sleep after Mickey returned the favor Sammy jumping up to snuggle in with Ian after the sex had stopped. Each of them had things to do later that day. Mickey was meeting with management for his show, and Ian has a fashion shoot where they might let him take some of the shots for the day. The beauty of being in New York. A land of dreams if you will. By the time they woke up and Ian had started on breakfast Mandy was walking in with a scowl etched firmly into her lips.

“I swear to god he said they can all hear us. Every last one of them.” He laughed frying eggs the way Mickey liked them.

“Well shit it’s not our fault they ain’t gettin the same action at home. Who pissed in your corn flakes anyway?” He nodded towards Mandy with his coffee.

“Your brother is a fucking asshole!” She mumbled snatching her brother’s coffee and gulping half of it.

Ian shrugged.  “I’m aware, but do enlighten me on what he did this time to make him an asshole cause I’m pretty sure I told you not to date him in the first place.”

“He doesn’t want me to come to Thanksgiving, gave this bullshit excuse about things moving too fast. What exactly counts as fast to him? Cause all we’ve done is fuck in different rooms. He doesn’t even live here I never get to see him outside of a fucking computer screen. I told him if my fuckhead of a brother is going to thanksgiving why can’t I and he turned into a complete and total bitch.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Who the fuck said I’m going to Thanksgiving?”

“No one had to say it you asswipe you’re going.” Ian demanded before softening up when it came to Mandy. “Mands my brother doesn’t do commitment. Not like Mickey doesn’t do commitment where he just needed someone to buy him a meal and some really good sex to open up but like he actually doesn’t do commitment. You’re coming to Thanksgiving as my guest anyway so fuck him.”

“You’re such a dick it actually astounds me that I love you.” Mickey muttered stealing his coffee back.

Mandy just sighed. “Things were going really well though.”

“Didn’t you just say all you guys did was fuck and skype? How bad can life be with those limitations?” Mickey asked earning a slap on the arm with Ian’s spatula.

“It was more than that you incompetent little troll. He told me stuff and I told him stuff. We bonded over our shitty Southside lives and getting out and I thought that maybe we might have what you guys have. I thought he really liked me and I thought that . . . maybe he was different.”

Ian sighed peering over from his work in the kitchen to see the sunken in look on her face. The same look every other girl got when they realized Lip didn’t do actual relationships. Only this wasn’t every other girl, this was Mandy, his Mandy and he’d be damned if she walked away mangled like the others. Hence why he’s told Lip to stay away from her, but he hadn’t and now Ian was gonna have to deal with it.

“I’ll talk to him okay? And you are coming to Thanksgiving no matter what. You’re family too.” He offered.

“And if that doesn’t work I’ll bust his fucking knee caps. I don’t like the dickhead anyway; you’d be better off dating the little black one.” Mickey grumbled around his coffee.

Mandy brightened immediately launching herself across the counter to hug each of them and pinch cheeks.

“Thanks. Now if you excuse me I have to work. Good luck with your portfolios and photoshoots. Good talk team!”

She left then, Ian chuckling and Mickey rolling his eyes playfully. They loved Mandy way too much for their own good.

“You gotta talk to your asshole of a brother.” Mickey laughed sticking his tongue out.

“You know we have to go back right?”

“Go where?”

“Southside. Fiona wants us there for Thanksgiving.”

Mickey automatically groaned. “So basically she wants you there and you’re forcing me to tag along?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be difficult. She’s already mad that I skipped out on Halloween and my birthday. We have to go for Thanksgiving or else they’ll think I’ve run off and eloped.”

“Like I’d elope with your ass.” Mickey scoffed before launching into another round of complaining. “They don’t even like me. Your brother thinks I’m an ignorant hoodlum who likes to finger paint and hurt you. Your goddamn sister thinks I’m some drunk idiot who has nothing better to do than fuck her little brother on her couch. And the one whose balls have barely dropped with the psychopathic tendencies and way too much interest in our dicks only likes me because he wants me to buy him a gun and magnums. And no offence but I highly doubt he’s packing like you are.”      

Ian just laughed always finding Mickey funny instead of his actual scary intent. Mickey scowled but it only made him more adorable.

“My sister has dated a car thief, fucked a cop in front of a church, and put out in the drive thru of a Wendy’s. My brother fucks girls until they get too clingy and dumps them instead of admitting he could ever give a damn about anyone. My point is neither of them get to tell me who I can and can’t love. You’re the healthiest relationship in Gallagher history probably and that’s saying something cause we’re pretty fucked up. You make me happy and once they see that I promise that’s all they’ll care about.”

He whined in return. “I don’t have a choice do I?”

“Nope. But I do appreciate your corporation babe and we’ll probably get incredibly drunk afterwards.”    

“Well at least there’s that.” He grumbled.

They enjoyed breakfast together Ian cooing over Sammy the entire time while Mickey watched on in disgust. His devotion to that dog was downright fucking creepy. It was just a tiny wolf with eyes as blue as his. Whatever. Ian had a long photo shoot ahead of him and Mickey was supposed to be showing his portfolio to the woman who was possibly gonna manage him.

“You gotta walk Sammy for me when you get home k? He needs fresh air which is exactly why we should move into a house instead of an apartment.” Ian murmured sucking enthusiastically on Mickey’s neck.

“Like fuck I’m gonna buy a house just so that damn dog that doesn’t even like me can take a shit every two seconds. We’re New Yorkers now; we live in an apartment with a fire escape every person’s dream.” He mumbled.

Ian chuckled running his fingers along the waistband of Mickey’s jeans. “But then we could be as loud as we want at night and we wouldn’t keep up our neighbors. I could fuck you so hard it brings tears to your eyes and no one would know a thing.”

“Jesus Christ we don’t have time for this go to work.” Mickey groaned already feeling the familiar tightening in his jeans.

“Think about it Mickey Mouse. Domesticity suits us!” Ian called on his way out the door.

“Fucking Gallagher.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

When Ian got home that night Mickey was laying on their bed with an arm covering his face. He was sure that meant things hadn’t gone well with the management lady which didn’t make any sense cause Mickey’s work was fucking amazing. Regardless he slipped his shoes off giving Sammy a loving pat before crawling into bed and curling up beside his boyfriend. He pressed his lips to Mickey’s forehead pulling his arm away until he was met with bright blue eyes. After the Terry situation he was terrified of anything that might set them back, anything that wasn’t good for them, for Mickey.

“The meeting not go right? Cause they really don’t deserve you Mick. You could do it your damn self. I mean I’ve got some pictures of Lip doing some freaky shit we could blackmail him to help promote stuff. We could rent out Mandy’s bar and do a show there or go back to the place where we met, see if they’ll let you have your own show. You don’t need anyone.” He assured him.

Mickey just stared at him for a second a smile threatening to break out across his lips. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant but it was nice to see regardless. When Mickey kissed him, pressing their foreheads together the confusion hit an all-time high because no one should be that happy about getting rejected.

“She wants to manage me. But thank you for your unrelenting optimism freckles.” He chuckled.

Ian squinted his eyebrows together which Mickey founded adorable.

“Then what the fuck were you doing sitting in the dark all depressed like?! Dammit Mickey I thought you were upset.”

“Awwww don’t be mad at me I was just taking a nap to be quite honest. Your dog is fucking exhausting. Come lay with me Gallagher angry doesn’t suit your cheeks.”

Ian sighed quickly snuggling deeper into Mickey’s chest.

His boyfriend was fucking stupid.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

“Baby I need you to actually smile for me.” Ian frowned from behind his lens.

Mickey rolled his eyes disdainfully. “This is stupid. Why are you making me do this? And stop calling me baby dammit.”

“Because my professor said to take pictures of things we care about and there’s nothing in the world I care about more than you.”

Mickey bit his lip failing to hide how much that meant to him. Ian must’ve found it somewhat Important cause that damn flash on the camera was going off again.

“Look at the camera would ya? Your eyes are so beautiful.” He mumbled to himself.

“Would you cut it out with that sappy bullshit?”

“Not a chance Milkovich, now come on and make love to the camera for me.”

When Mickey laughed Ian got trigger happy once again snapping picture after picture of the rare commodity that was his beautiful smile.

“Come look.” Ian insisted when he finally let Mickey move away from the camera.

He set up the camera at the computer using his fancy photographer software to pull up the images. Mickey watched from behind with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Mickey thought he looked stupid but Ian was beaming with pride. His fingers traced the images zooming in to show Mickey all these things he didn’t care about. But he listened because it was Ian and he was so excited and so in love with it, that Mickey didn’t care if they never spoke of anything else again.

“You see your jaw there? See the way it’s pointed down and how it causes that shadow right there which I can make more prominent with this button? Gah it’s so beautiful. And I can change the lighting here with this button to make your eyes pop more against the background. And he said I could take a computer applications course to learn more about the software too, isn’t that great Mick?!”

The little nerd was so happy that it made Mickey smile just to look at him. He reached forward taking Ian’s cheek into the palm of his hand with a smile.

“That is great. Looks like you found your passion freckles.”

Ian’s eyes brightened even more if that were possible reaching to touch Mickey’s hand on his cheek.

“You really think so?”

Mickey could see that he wasn’t always a hundred percent sure of himself. He knew it was hard to trust instincts and gut and all that bullshit all the time. He plopped himself down on Ian’s lap flipping through some of the photos that were of him and smiled.

“’Course I think so. You’re happy with what you’re doing and that’s all that matters. What’d I tell ya huh?”

Ian leaned his head on Mickey’s shoulder smiling shyly. “To find something I love and a make a living out of it. I can’t just drop out of school though I have student loans. I mean I gotta have an education right?”

“All these photography classes you disappear to all day leaving me and Sammy to our lonesome don’t count as school? You do this for a year, you see where you get, and if you still love it you keep doing it. You don’t, we go back to the drawing board. Don’t worry about student loans, that’s a stupid fucking reason not to do what you wanna do with your life. I’ll take care of that.”

Ian’s smile was interrupted by a quirking eyebrow.

“Mick how much money do you actually have?”

Mickey rolled his eyes playfully. “None of your fucking business Firecrotch.”

“You gonna be my sugar daddy now?” He smirked.

“Of course that’s what your weird kinky ass would be into bitch. Christ what am I gonna do with you?”

Ian shrugged. “You wanna go fuck in the shower?”

Mickey’s eyes widened. “The fuck you asking stupid ass questions for . . . Of course I wanna go fuck in the shower.”

And then they were off running after each other and giggling like a bunch of fucking girls.

The entire week before Thanksgiving was disastrous. Mickey was skyping twenty-four seven with Linda and all these lawyers and important people in business suits. Ian was trying to potty train Sammy before they left him with Svetlana so they could go to Chicago. And Mandy . . . Well Mandy wouldn’t leave their goddamn apartment. First they decided to bake together for the Gallaghers, and then she was coming up with recipes and all of a sudden she was fucking taking days off to ruin Mickey’s life. Every time the whole Betty Crocker thing would really get him going and he thought about kitchen sex, there she fucking was with her big, metaphorical steel doors with cockblock written across them. As if that shit wasn’t bad enough it became decided, without Mickey’s knowledge of course, that they would be taking a twenty-three hour bus ride to the piece of shit place known as the south side. It was horrible.

“What’s got you so tense Mickey Mouse?” Ian murmured slipping his hands onto Mickey’s shoulders from behind as he climbed into bed.

“Stop fucking calling me Mickey Mouse dammit, I draw the line at cartoon characters. And I’ll have you know it’s this stupid fucking thanksgiving crap. Not to mention I’m being forced to find a lawyer for this whole art shows business. And my fucking sister won’t go to her own goddamn apartment which means I can’t get my ass pounded to relieve the stress, so I’ve got chronic blue balls at this point. Oh and your dog shits everywhere but other than that I’m just peachy Minnie.”

Ian chuckled working to unknot the kinks in Mickey’s back.

“Well I really think you’ll like Thanksgiving Gallagher style. We’re just gonna eat a shit ton, drink, and get high and eat some more. And if you need a lawyer so bad I could always have Lip talk to one of his buddies from college, I’m pretty sure one of them went to law school. And as for your medical situation . . . why don’t you let Dr. Ian take a look?”

“You are literally the corniest human being I’ve ever met.” Mickey laughed as Ian slid to floor in front of him. “Who was that line supposed to work on?”

“You want my mouth on your dick or you wanna keep making fun of me?” He smirked tugging at Mickey’s boxers.

“That . . . Shit that’s good. I definitely missed that.” He hummed leaning his head back with a content sigh.

Ian’s hands touched his hips digging in with his nails and causing beautiful sounds to erupt from his boyfriend’s mouth. It’d been way too long without Gallagher’s mouth thanks to Mandy and Mickey wouldn’t stop him for anything in the world. His fingers gripped tightly in Ian’s hair, eyes struggling to stay open at the stunning sight before him. He was in the middle of having very gay thoughts about how beautiful his boyfriend was when his fucking bitch of a sister came rushing in. And apparently too many years at the Milkovich House of Horrors had made her immune to being affected by seeing her brothers in various states of sex.

“When you guys are done you want me to help pack? I figured we could make a list for snacks and shit on the bus.” She offered taking a bite of her cereal nosily.

“Why don’t you just literally throw ice as my fucking dick why don’t you? I mean what is the matter with the two of you?! You might as well have cockblock tattooed on your fucking forehead. Meanwhile my sister walks in the room yet you’re still down there deep throating away like nothing happened.” Mickey yelled.

Mandy shrugged. “I’ve seen worse with you two. At least it’s in his mouth and not in my eye sight.”

“That’s right Mick she has.” Ian gasped before going down again.

As if to make matters worse Sammy came bustling in probably wondering why daddy was choking on pubes. What the entire fuck.

“Oh my god I’m losing my fucking mind in this place. You, take the fucking dog out of the room please? NOW! Holy fuck!”

“Jeez come on Sammy let’s go watch some Friends reruns. Take your time down there Ian someone needs to bust a load before he has a fucking heart attack.”

She closed the door just in time to miss the pillow Mickey threw at her leaving Ian to finally come up for air.

“Go home Mandy! AND STOP EATING MY FUCKING CAPTAIN CRUNCH! And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Mickey snapped.

Ian raised an eyebrow before shoving Mickey down to the bed and settling himself more promptly between his legs.

“I’m your boyfriend Mick not one of the causes of stress in your life. Act like it huh?”

He then processed to give what Mickey was sure was the best lay of his entire fucking existence.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Svetlana came knocking on the door at the same time that everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Except Mickey, Mickey was still asleep. When Ian opened the door she was standing there with a piece of paper between her fingers a smirk upon her lips.

“You and angry bottom get noise complaint. Apparently angry bottom is also loud bottom.”

He groaned. “Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me. Again?”

Her eyes brightened at that information before a six-year old Yevgeny came running through the apartment then heading straight for the couch where Mickey was contributing to the cause by sleeping while Ian and Mandy did everything.

“Uncle Mickey wake up I’ve got so much art to show you!” He screeched. “Look I’m an artist now too!”

Ian turned to Svetlana with a knowing smirk that she rolled her eyes to.

“Yevgeny does not have very good taste in men he is like you. He comes home from school and I get call that my Yevgeny is writing fuck you up on all of his drawings now. He tells teacher Uncle Mickey says you need a signature. You make it stop before I choke Uncle Mickey with thighs and dump body in the river.”

Ian tried not to laugh though the visual it supplied was one of the most perfect things in the world. He tried to walk her through the rigorous system put in place for his Sammy while Yev made Mickey show him how to draw a lion. Mandy on the other hand was watching Yev and Mickey interact for the first time, a magazine firmly in place to hide her smile.

Yev frowned, voice taking on a whine like quality. “I can’t do it Uncle Mickey.”

Mickey nudged him reassuringly with his shoulder. “Hey don’t say that you can do whatever the fuck you want. Look you draw the body then the tail so it looks more natural. We’ll label ‘em in steps so you can practice alright?”

“You and my brother are totally gonna have ginger and dark haired babies with six packs that like to paint and shit.” She murmured adoringly.

Ian chuckled. “From your words to God’s ears. I just think it’s amazing that Mickey’s first friend happens to be a six-year old.”

Mickey’s spidey senses must have been tingling though cause he looked over just in time to see everyone laughing at him.

“Hey fuck you guys!”

“Yea fuck you guys!” Yev grunted enthusiastically in a tone remarkably similar to Mickey’s if not for the lack of base in his voice.

“Oh shit.” Mickey mumbled.

“Oh shit.” Ian and Mandy said in unison.

Svetlana started screaming in Russian which Ian was very aware was not a good sign once so ever. Yevgeny started crying, Mickey was dodging Lana’s heels that were headed towards his jugular, and Mandy was just sitting back and enjoying the show. It was an interesting way to start the morning to say the least. She took the dog, thankfully, still cursing Mickey out in Russian before telling Mr. Angry Bottom to go find some other little boy to fuck up, that Yev wasn’t allowed to see him anymore.

“That. That right there is why I am never having children.” Mickey muttered. “Let’s go visit some other people that hate me shall we?”

They grabbed their bags, and Ian and Mandy’s multiple baked goods before climbing aboard their bus ride to South Side. Ian had a paper to do for one of his photography classes which made shit sense to Mickey anyway; Mandy was watching some stupid chick flick which left Mickey all alone. He felt surprisingly bad for resulting in the little kid crying. Yev hadn’t been so bad, he’d liked Mickey and Mickey had kind of enjoyed someone to show how to draw shit all day. That mother of his though, god if only she had a set of balls between her legs. He’d never wanted to kick a woman’s teeth in so bad in his life. She was nothing but a reminder of everyone that judged him and wrote him off in his life and it wasn’t fucking fair.

Ian was three pages in on his assignment when he realized how quiet Mickey had become. Usually whenever he had a paper due, his boyfriend was the neediest little thing in all of the world. Instead he was bent over his sketch pad with a sad look on his face that was not very Thanksgiving-y at all. Ian pulled his ear buds out and moved his laptop away before leaning over Mickey’s shoulder to peer at the drawing.

“What’cha drawing?” He asked.

Mickey looked up into Ian’s eyes and relaxed for the first time since he’d woken up.

“You see the flames?”

“Yea.”

“You see that face and all the stuff dripping into the fire?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s your boss and that’s the flesh burning off of her body. Welcome to Mickey Milkovich’s therapy.”

He paused because like what the fuck.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side okay?” He smirked kissing Mickey’s temple.

Never had the question of who was scarier: Mickey or Svetlana, been so difficult to answer.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

“DEBBIE, CARL, IAN’S HOME GET DOWN HERE!” Fiona screamed.

Soon Ian was being attacked by his older sister with laughter and smiles. Mickey and Mandy stood back watching the huge display where she squeezed and kissed at his hair like he was still seven. As soon as he’d forgiven her, Fiona was insistent on seeing more of her little brother and having him as a more important fixture in her family’s life.

“You okay?” She smiled rubbing her thumb along his cheeks.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine Fi.”

“Good.” She smiled turning to take in the person standing next to him. “Mickey!”

Ian and Mandy watched on in shock as Fiona threw her arms around Mickey in a similar like fashion.

“How are you?” She smiled patting him on the cheek.

“Uh….Good?” He said, eyebrows pointed towards Ian.

“Good I’m so glad you came. I know we were a little difficult last time.”

Mickey had never been so over a conversation in his entire life.

“Yea anyway this is my sister. She’s screwing one of your other dozen children feel free to hug her too.” He insisted shuffling over to Ian and hiding.

“Should I say I told you so or would that be rude?” Ian smirked taking his hands in his.

“Fuck all the way off.”

Ian took the opportunity while Fiona was greeting Mandy to grab as Mickey’s backside flirtatiously.

“Maybe later babe.” He grinned.

Mickey didn’t even get a chance to hit him for calling him babe before another part of the Gallagher clan came bustling in.

“Gross Ian no PDA in the living room we almost had to burn the couch last time.”

“Debbie!” Ian chuckled turning to pull his siblings in for a hug. “I missed you guys. Did you get the gifts we sent?”

“Yes! Everyone at school was so jealous of the dress you got me it was awesome!”

“Yea dude and the brass knuckles were sick.” Carl smirked. “Fiona’s gonna let me actually keep them for not getting held back this year.”

“Well Mickey founds those, I have limited knowledge of melee weapons, but congrats on not repeating another year.”

“Really? Yo what about my magnums?!”

Mickey sighed. Two seconds in and he was already reminded of why he didn’t do holidays. Family. Ew.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

“His family is kind of like ours.” Mandy noted. “Just a different kind of fucked up. I guess I didn’t expect that part.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “That’s great why don’t you go with the other women in the kitchen with all that shit you baked. Make a good impression or something for Phillip.”

She stuck her tongue out disappearing just in time for Fiona to come and annoy the absolute fuck out of him. The Gallagher house was practically suffocating him and his redhead was off enjoying it while he sat there struggling to breathe.

“Beer?” Fiona offered.

He took it with a grunt as she scooted closer to him on the couch.

“Do you need something? Is there a reason why you’re not treating me like shit?”

She smiled at him instead of looking offended or upset which kind of reminded him of Ian not that most things didn’t remind him of Ian nowadays.

“Lip told me what you did for Ian.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Mandy told him Ian had an episode. We were gonna drive up but she said that you took care of him, and that it passed pretty quickly. Thank you; you didn’t have to do that and I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“Not it wasn’t. And I didn’t do it for your or fucking Lip’s benefit . . .” He paused losing his steam and just looking tired as he kept his eyes on his bottle. “I just uh I need him to stick around alright so I didn’t really have a choice. Of course I’ll take care of him.”

She nodded softly looking up at him with her big bambi’s mom just got shot eyes. He found it weird how open and fearless she was with her emotions. He thought maybe that’s why Ian was so open, why he craved the openness so much. He kind of wished he could give him that.

“Hey could you . . . would you mind letting me know next time? I won’t freak out I just—I need to know he’s okay sometimes. He’s never here anymore and I miss the hell out of him. I worry about him.”

And what could he say? He couldn’t blame her for worrying about Ian cause he worried about him on a daily basis. And he knew that pride would keep Ian from ever telling his family what was wrong. He didn’t want to hurt or scare them. But they deserved to know, and anyone who cared and love Ian couldn’t be all that fuckin’ bad in Mickey’s book.

“Yea, alright.”

She smiled giving his knee a firm squeeze. “Thanks Mickey I really appreciate that.”

She got up off the couch leaving a spot open for Ian. As usual Lip was late, but with everyone else already in the kitchen working on food they were finally able to have a second alone.

“So no one has accused you of stealing my virtue yet. Fiona actually pinched your cheeks, and I think Carl is dressing like you now. I hate to tell you this Mickey, but I think my family likes you.” Ian joked, but his eyes were too bright.

“You like that don’t you shithead?” Mickey sighed pressing their foreheads together.

Ian kissed him softly. “Is it so bad to want my family to love my boyfriend? You sit there looking all fucking adorable and thuggish and then all of a sudden they love you too? It’s like a dream come true.”

“Yea well I’m sure I’ll do something stupid eventually.”

“Like what adopt a dog with me? Take care of me when my mental health becomes a problem? Maybe take me to Paris and tell me you love me? You’re right you’re an asshole.” He chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up, you talk too much.”

“Yea, why don’t you come shut me up then with your big bad fuck u-up knuckles.”

Mickey couldn’t hold back the smile that shown wide and bright on his face as he leaned in to kiss what was slowly becoming the love of his life.

 

 

 


	19. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mickey, Ian told us you might have something coming up in the art world is that true? We’d love to see your stuff some time.” Fiona asked.
> 
> She’d been trying to incorporate him into the conversation ever since their little heart to heart and he fucking hated it. 
> 
> “Like that’s gonna fucking happen.” He mumbled under his breath reaching for his beer. 
> 
> Ian kicked him hard in the shin, catching the table with his knee and causing Mickey to wince in pain splashing beer everywhere.   
> “Ouch goddammit Gallagher.” 
> 
> “Excuse him. We’re still working on his manners. He’s making progress though he should have the manners of a pitbull by the time he’s thirty.” Ian scolded fixing a harsh glare at his boyfriend. 
> 
> The table snickered, Mandy in particular finding it funny.

Mickey found that his actual disdain towards the Gallagher house hold had little to do with Fiona or Debbie or Liam or hell even Carl despite how fucking weird he was. In fact the one person in the family that he couldn’t fucking stand was Lip. And everything had been going just fucking peachy until that asshole walked in and looked at his fucking sister like she didn’t have the right to be there, like his little sister didn’t deserve the fucking world and was settling when it came to his ass. His eyes turned accusingly toward Ian and Mickey as he slid firmly into the number one spot of Mickey’s list of people he wanted to knock the fuck out. Then there was Ian with his long limbs and desperate tactics to refrain from violence. Jesus Christ he hated Southside.

“Outside. Come on.” Ian sighed pushing Lip right out of where he’d just come from.

“What the fuck Ian you went behind my back and invited her?!” He yelled.

“No. Fiona told me I could invite who I wanted and I wasn’t leaving my best fucking friend in New York you dickhead which you didn’t even take into account. This is exactly why I told you not to fuck with her I knew you were gonna pull this shit what’s the matter with you?!”

“Nothing’s fucking the matter with me I wanted to spend the holidays with my family, that so bad? Then you go and invite the whole Milkovich squad, I’m surprised Terry isn’t here too.”

Ian looked back at the house as if Mickey could hear their conversation and pushed firmly at Lip’s chest.

“Shut the fuck up. As far as I’m concerned they are my family, just as much as you are. You wanna be a prick and treat a girl like shit you do it with someone else not Mandy. Either you go in there and be a man for once or you fucking end it. End of discussion. You don’t deserve her anyway.”

He turned back around to head in the house just in time for Mandy to open up the door. She stared at him for a second with that genuine smile plain on her face before giving him a gentle wink.

“I think I got it from here.”

He nodded giving her room to pass by him not missing how strong every step she took was. Ian was glad he got to stand up for Mandy Milkovich because he had a sneaking suspicion that due to how strong she was no one ever really did. Sometimes the strong people are the ones who need it the most. He went back in the house to sit next to his boyfriend whose hands were clenched too tightly around a beer bottle, and smiled because Mandy would always have two guys that would love and protect her. His brother was just kind of an asshole.

“Please don’t kick my brother’s ass during thanksgiving. I really need you to do that for me.” Ian insisted earning a worrying look from Fiona.

Mickey sighed. “On our way home?”

He couldn’t help his smile but shook his head softly. “No Mickey. But maybe during Christmas, there’s not too much of a dark past for Christmas.”

“That’s so far away.” Mickey mumbled. “You owe me.”

When Mandy came back in a few minutes later wearing a fake, watery smile that both Ian and Mickey could notice from a mile away, it became evident that he was gonna be kissing ass for weeks after this. Mandy walked past everyone locking herself in the only room she’d remembered, the upstairs bathroom. Mickey knew that if he didn’t go after her he was gonna fight Ian’s brother and he didn’t want to fuck up that whole Gallaghers not hating him thing, so he stood up quickly.

“Hold my fucking beer before I smash into his fucking skull.” He spat thumping his way up the stairs.

He could hear her crying and it really pissed him off. He hadn’t been there enough when they were kids. There were too many times where he’d walked past the bathroom door and continued on with his day after hearing those sobs. Things were different now, he was different, and if anyone was gonna be there for Mandy it had to be him.

“Hey open up, it’s me.”

“Mick?” She sniffled.

“Who the fuck else would it be?”

She opened the door quickly surprising him by collapsing into his arms like this was shit that they actually did. He sighed gripping her tightly and letting her pretend that she hadn’t been crying. They had that internal complex about them where crying would never fully be accepted, so all they could do was hug each other and pretend.

“He hurt you?” He asked firmly fully ready to kick ass if need be.

She shook her head. “I broke up with him. Your boyfriend was pretty bad ass out there by the way.”

“The fuck are we sitting up here crying for then?”

“Cause I am now once again the nagging third wheel to your adorably gay love story and it fucking sucks Mick.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus you’re so dramatic.”

“I thought he was a good one. He’s my stereotypical type with the hair and the smokes and the fucking not caring about anything. I just thought that if you had Ian maybe I could have something good to. It would’ve been weird when you two got married anyway.” She sighed. “Wasn’t even hung like Ian.”

“Oh for fuck sakes we are not close enough to hug and talk about dicks Mandy. And we’re not getting married so cut it out with that shit.”

“Sorry. Now I’m at Thanksgiving with my ex-boyfriend and my brother and his boyfriend’s family where everyone’s gonna look at me like I’m some poor pitiful thing and it’s gonna fucking suck.”

“Oh fuck them. I don’t even wanna be here. We’re gonna go down there and eat and drink and I’m gonna accidently kick fuckhead under the table the entire time. It’ll be great.” He assured her patting roughly at her back.

Her arms tightened suddenly around him. “How do you do it? Be around all of that knowing it’s something we never had?”

He shrugged. “Cause he asked me to.”

He didn’t tell her that seeing Ian happy for one measly second is better than any lack of childhood he ever had. He doesn’t tell her that when he’s with Ian nothing can be completely bad, not even Thanksgiving. He doesn’t tell her how he really feels because it’s just not the relationship that they have, but somehow in the middle of a dirty Gallagher bathroom with toilet paper and underwear thrown about the words aren’t missed. Somehow she knows exactly what he means and that’s all she needed to hear.

“I’m really happy for you shithead.” She grunted before pulling away. “Now let’s go show these Gallaghers how well Milkovichs eat other people’s shit.

Mickey chuckled letting her fix her face before they made their way back down stairs. Lip was conveniently placed as far away from Mandy as physically possible at the table. Ian ended up next to Mickey, with Mandy flanking his side and the rest of his family around him. It was weird how things shifted the second they stepped into the room, like all of his family was finally there once they took their seats. Frank wasn’t there and no one gave enough fucks to ask where he was. Once everyone got over that awkward energy of the girl who just dumped Lip sitting right next to Ian, they were actually able to have a nice meal.

“Mickey, Ian told us you might have something coming up in the art world is that true? We’d love to see your stuff some time.” Fiona asked.

She’d been trying to incorporate him into the conversation ever since their little heart to heart and he fucking hated it.

“Like that’s gonna fucking happen.” He mumbled under his breath reaching for his beer.

Ian kicked him hard in the shin, catching the table with his knee and causing Mickey to wince in pain splashing beer everywhere.

“Ouch goddammit Gallagher.”

“Excuse him. We’re still working on his manners. He’s making progress though he should have the manners of a pitbull by the time he’s thirty.” Ian scolded fixing a harsh glare at his boyfriend.

The table snickered, Mandy in particular finding it funny.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Don’t know why you bring me into conversations if you don’t like what I have to say.”

“Cause you say generally unpleasant things unless you’re in very interesting bendy positions Mick.” Mandy giggled around her own beer.

Mickey flipped her off reaching around Ian to tug at her hair sharply.

“Ouch you fucker.” She spat.

“Lucky I couldn’t reach your tit.”

Ian sighed dramatically. “Can you two try not to act like five years old for two seconds? My dog behaves better.”

“Thought it was our dog honey pie.” Mickey smirked.

Ian reached into Mickey’s lap giving his dick a firm squeeze and finally silencing him. Mandy leaned over to catch a peak and rolled her eyes going back to her food despite the nausea taking over.

“He just found this lady who wants to manage him. She’s like the queen of art or something in New York, and they’re arranging his first exhibit now. They say he has the potential to take the art world by storm.” Ian beamed proudly. “Isn’t that right Mick?”

“Yea, yea something like that.” He mumbled cheeks reddening.

Debbie shrugged. “Maybe we could go sometime. I like art.”

“Of course Debs sounds fun.”

Mickey looked over at the little fucker’s face so excited to have both of his lives merging together that he couldn’t even been grumpy. He had a hand on his dick and food in front of him, there was literally no way for him to be upset. They ate and everyone was loud and talking over each other and it was still really weird for Mickey to see. He was used to the noise; it was the lack of bitterness and cursing that confused him. They were all…. Like actually happy to be with each other. It was fucking weird.

"Anything else new in the city?" Fiona asked smiling.

Ian shrugged. "Svetlana's on my ass about out of country work. Wants me to establish myself in other areas of the fashion world, but I uh . . . I'm really enjoying photography right now actually. It's just classes but it could be something."

"That sounds great, really." She smiled.

"Not really a job though right?"

Everyone turned to look at Lip with a beer covering the evident smirk on his lips. Ian could feel Mickey tense beside him, and he got the feeling this wasn't gonna end well at all.

"No it wouldn't be a job, but I've worked long enough to build up some credit with the people photographing me that they're letting me try it out at shoots. And a couple said I could probably have something."

He let it drop for now but Ian knew it wasn't the end of it. This was Lip and he was in a pissy mood so he was gonna be a jackass and piss everyone else off, especially Ian. The problem was he'd yet to deal with the person who didn't put up with people fucking with Ian. Mickey.

"I'm trying to get Mickey to move into a house. Make a honest woman out of me." He laughed midway through dinner in response to some question Fiona had asked.

Mickey rolled his eyes letting Ian hold his hand under the table to assure he was joking.

"Probably not a good idea regardless." Lip spoke up taking in Ian's glare. "You guys have only been dating a couple months anyway."

"And just why the fuck not? It'll be a year next month. Did I miss something cause I'm pretty sure Fiona got married after like a day with Gus and I definitely didn’t see you giving her shit about it." Ian snapped through with his idiotic brother.

“Oh are we counting the period where you went on a depressive rampage and broke up with him only to grovel on your knees for him for like two months or are we just sweeping that under the rug? Besides an artist and a wannabe photographer, doesn't really sound like the necessary salary for a house in New York. Who knows how long you'll last anyway."

"Lip!" Fiona hissed.

Mickey cracked his knuckles under the table his patience quickly wearing thin.

"Naw it's fine. I just find it a little interesting that you feel the need to comment on your brother's relationship at all when you did just get dumped on thanksgiving after all."

Lip shrugged. “My brother doesn’t have the best taste in men.”

“Yea, neither does my sister.”

They glared at each other, Lip wanting to see how far he could push it, and Mickey trying to calculate the time it would take to smash a beer bottle into the fucker’s face before Ian dragged him off. Ian threw his napkin at Lip’s face in a rush to diffuse the argument as quick as possible. It didn’t help that Mandy was over there smirking her fucking ass off.

"Mick you promised." Ian murmured in his ear.

He clenched his jaw reaching up to pinch the bridge of his noise.

"He's not worth it, calm down. For me?" His boyfriend cooed.

"Christmas?"

Ian chuckled. "Christmas. I promise."

It took him a minute but he slowly steadied his breathing trying to hold onto the promise of an ass beating another day.

“Don’t you just love having the family together for the holidays?” Debbie sighed.

Liam just clapped and laughed ridding the room of the rest of the hostility. They all managed to eat without getting blood everywhere which after the whole Monica wrist thing was a true blessing. Ian was happy so Mickey didn’t complain too much, and Mandy found a friend in Debbie so she wasn’t just sitting there trying not to be weird. After stuffing themselves the party just continued when Kevin and V came over with their twins and it became more about having fun then all of these people staring at the Milkovichs waiting for them to fuck up. Mickey was still pretty sure he hated Lip’s guts though.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“You okay?” Ian murmured plopping himself on Mickey’s lap and wrapping his arms around him.

Mickey grunted. “I was doing just fine till your giant ass came over here to suffocate me.”

“You know your comments on my weight are really affecting my relationship with food Mick.”

“Says the fucker with the eight pack who made a separate dessert for himself so he wouldn’t be tempted. Looking at you almost makes me wanna give up beer. Almost.”

“Mmm I like you just the way you are.” He whispered licking at Mickey’s bottom lip.

“Yea you’re not so bad yourself freckles.”

Ian fingers found their way into Mickey’s hair playing with the strands as they kissed. Everyone else was too drunk or drugged out to even notice them and it almost felt like they were alone. Kissing Mickey was one of Ian’s favorite things to do in the world and he thought that he was really good at it. Their tongues moving together, sensual touches that made his skin feel fiery and alive. It felt good. Way too good.

“Wanna go upstairs?”

Mickey chuckled playing with Ian’s collar. “What kind of an impression would I make if I let you drag me upstairs to have your way with me.”

“A really, really good one.” Ian murmured.

“Yea okay let’s go.”

Ian hopped off of Mickey’s lap towing him away from where the rest of his family was dancing and drinking and having a good time. They’d just got the stairs, Ian giggling and Mickey trying not to when Lip appeared with a cigarette between his lips ready to cockblock. Mickey couldn’t decide between crying and kicking him in the throat. It wasn’t supposed to be that difficult to get a dick in him.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Ian caught one glance as Mickey’s ass in the jeans he’d bought him for the occasion and groaned.

“Can’t it wait an hour or two?”

“Or till tomorrow.” Mickey interjected tugging on Ian’s hand. “Come on Firecrotch.”

Lip rolled his eyes. “You can literally fuck each other whenever you want. I need to talk to you for ten minutes.”

Since Lip’s burst of assaholic behavior seemed to have been used up Ian was a little more keen to interact with him. As painful as it was to leave Mickey in such an obviously desperate time of need, he figured his brother and he could use the one on one time.

“Ten minutes okay?” Ian murmured squeezing Mickey’s hand.

Mickey groaned in frustration. “Fine, don’t get pissy at me if I start without you.”

“Shit let’s hurry this up.” He insisted heading back down the stairs with Lip. “The stuff is in the third compartment of my suit case.”

Lip sighed. “Bringing lube to Thanksgiving is so fucking wrong.”

They hobbled out to the porch taking a seat on the old steps and looking out at their old neighborhood. Neither of them living at home anymore, it was easy to forget that that’s what they were. Southside through and through. No one ever expected a Gallagher to get out let alone two, and there was always this sense of guilt for leaving the others behind. It was the moments like that though where they were reminded how much of them was still there, the memories of scams and sticky summers running around to keep busy and make money playing in their minds. Lip was still his big brother, and Ian was always gonna look up to him in a way he’d never gotten the chance to look at anyone else.

“I kind of missed you Jackass.” Ian chuckled stealing a cigarette from Lip’s pack.

Lip smiled. “Yea, me too. It’s like you got a new family over there in New York.”

“That why you’re so insistent on treating them like shit?”

“Partly. Doesn’t help that there so good with you. You’ve got a life now that I know nothing about.”

“To be fair you don’t call or text or skype like Fiona does at least once a month. Life is busy I get it, but you can’t blame me for living it. I’m finally getting my shit together don’t hate me for it.” Ian murmured nudging Lip’s knee with his own.

Lip nodded keeping his eyes focused on his cigarette as they sat in silence for a second. They both knew he had something to say but it was always best to just give him time to work the words out in his own head first. He’d made it half way through his cigarette when the thoughts finally came bursting out.

“Mandy told me. Before she broke up with me I mean, she told me that you had an episode.”

Ian looked up at his brother who had this wounded, scared look in his eyes. They spoke as little of Ian’s disorder as possible. Debbie and Carl had their own experiences with Monica but certain things could only be felt between the two of them. Dealing with Ian always felt like a little too much for Lip, like he was never gonna be able to fix it like he always had. Bully fucking with his little brother? He kicked the shit out of him and kept it moving. Bipolar type one with psychotic tendencies and paranoia? How the fuck was he supposed to fix that?

“Okay . . .  so you’re mad I didn’t tell you?”

Lips shrugged helplessly. “I’m mad you have to go through this shit period Ian that’s not the point. The point is you’re not just my kid brother with more freckles than skin and a way too innocent smile. We don’t live in the same state anymore, we don’t talk to each other about anything, and I don’t even get a call when you’re manic. Seeing you . . . like that with him it . . . means you don’t need me anymore.”

Ian tried to smile. “Didn’t I tell you that though the last time you visited? Remember big fight, didn’t talk for months?”

Lip shoved at him. “I’m trying to be serious here shithead. You’re gonna go off and get married or some shit and live in a house with Mickey Milkovich with your lube and your fucking dog and I’m never gonna hear from you again.”

“I think we have a better chance of you curing cancer than Mickey proposing to me but go on.”

His brother looked down playing with his cigarette and finally coming to the root of what he’d really been trying to say.

“I guess I was under the impression that Mickey didn’t know you. Last time you were here he’d do shit and I kept expecting it to be wrong, for there to be some error in the two of you but there is none. I think I was just jealous because he knows you better than me now. And I’m not really used to that quite yet.”

Ian peered over at Lip a kind of sadness settling over them. Things had changed so drastically over the years. For the better of course, but a part of him would always miss the shitty Southside because it used to mean something. Family or some sappy shit like that. But sitting there on the stoop they’d stomped up and down for years left little to be admired. They could miss the past all they wanted, but neither of them would ever actually be willing to go back.

“He’s not gonna hurt me you know.” Ian mumbled feeling the need to stick up for his boyfriend. “He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, and he’s got his own demons just like I do but he really cares about me. He just wants me to be happy and I’ve never had that before, the no selfish intensions thing. It’s not ideal that your brother be with the thug from the next neighborhood over I get it but that’s not who he is anymore. He’s good and he’s good for me too, I need him.”

Lip sighed around his cigarette. “Yea I’m gathering that.”

“Hey I need you too asshole. Not like I used to where I needed you for everything but as my brother. I need you for advice and to complain to constantly so maybe try to find a minute where the robots can take a break and call me for once. You being out of my life was never part of the plan.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckled. “Just protect yourself over there in the city huh?”

“We use condoms sometimes. It’s just so inconvenient what with the lube and everything. Bare backing is pretty fun too though. I tried to make a serious relationship discussion on it like to determine if we were committed to each other and everything like they say in the blogs? He told me to either get a dick in him or shut the fuck up. I’ve yet to decide if I’m dating the Grinch or grumpy. I’m leaning towards grumpy with the whole height thing.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Ian that’s not the protection I meant!” Lip gagged. “Oh fuck that’s disgusting.”

“Actually it’s no different than you cumming inside of a woman. My hole is just a whole lot tighter and a little farther back with a dick in the front.” Ian shrugged nonchalantly.

He cracked then clearly amused by the disgusted expression on his brother’s face. They laughed the sound light and carefree in the air. Like old times, but different. A good different.

“We done here?” Ian chuckled.

“Yea, yea go stick it in your boyfriend I’ll just be out here alone and dumped.”

“Don’t mind if I do. Good talk bro.” He smirked dodging the smack Lip threw his way.

Inside the Gallagher house the party raged on, all of his favorite people laughing and having fun. He saw the way Fiona smiled as she danced with Gus, happy and healthy and taken care of. He saw how Debbie and Carl weren’t so tiny anymore, how much closer than where to him as a teenager then he’d realized. Liam talking and clapping and finally playing an active role in the chaos. Mandy was smiling and twirling with all the others such genuine beauty bursting from within her. Kevin and Vee like they’d been for so long in his life, right in the middle of their craziness. It was all his favorite people, all the people that he loved, yet his eyes were yearning for other things.

Upstairs in his childhood bed, like a wet dream from the gods, was the love of his life probably expecting quick and dirty sex. But the longer he stared at him, the longer he remembered what Lip had said, the more he craved something different, softer.

“You start without me? He murmured taking in Mickey’s hands moving jerkily beneath the sheets.

“Says the guy who ditched me to go be buddy buddy with his asshole brother.” He grunted.

“You jealous Mick?”

Mickey’s arm moved in rugged strokes before he released a really beautiful sound from those pouty lips Ian loved so much. Ian bit his lip getting the chair from the desk he’d once done his homework in to keep the door closed while he had sex with his boyfriend. He tugged his shirt over his head as Mickey watched on continuing to stretch himself at the little show. The bed was tiny forcing them close together as Ian crawled in settling himself between Mickey’s legs as he stared at him.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” Mickey mumbled under the fierce gaze fingers touching ginger hair.

“You’re kind of beautiful…. That’s all.”

“Stop it.” He groaned.

Ian just shook his head playfully a smile so true and genuine it hurt to look at on his face.

“You’re so beautiful Mickey.” He insisted pressing their lips together. “I love you.”

His fingers grazed Mickey’s shoulders slipping over the pale skin of chest and thighs. He wanted gentle touches and passionate kisses where it felt like the whole world would collapse if they didn’t keep kissing. He wanted to wrap himself up in Mickey, to absorb the feeling of him into his bones. He wanted to make love to Mickey Milkovich, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to stop him.

Mickey doesn’t even seem to realize it. As far as he knows it’s just like every other time they’ve fucked only this time Ian won’t stop kissing him, won’t stop petting his hair, touching his face and skin. And he won’t let any space between them. It reminds him of the time after they talked about Terry but he can’t’ quite put his finger on why. Ian’s hands traced his calves and thighs keeping him there beneath him. It was so much more intimate, so close and warm. Mickey clung to him loving how grounded he could feel with every tug of Ian’s hands on his hips while still managing to make him feel like he was floating away. He loved the taste of his name on his lover’s hips, how every kiss and touch felt like it was pulling him deeper into this warm hole. It felt right. It felt like how they should be.

 By the time Ian rolled off to other side of Mickey they were exhausted, yes, but more satisfied than either of them knew what to do with. It was kind of one of the best moments of Ian’s life.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Ian was awoken by the sounds of laughter wafting up the stairs. He was still naked beneath the sheets with that jelly like feeling in his bones that only Mickey could cause and the empty twist of his gut from the sheets coming up empty. That still happened. That fear that one day he’s wake up and Mickey wouldn’t be there, but he quickly shoved it out of his mind. He groped around his bed fumbling for sweats and a tank top before tumbling down the stairs to see what was going on. Everyone was huddled around the kitchen table peering at a big book. Mickey and Mandy were at the center, everyone else flanking their sides as they all looked on at Ian’s old childhood pictures, aka the very things that haunted him at night. He stared on in horror as his boyfriend was made aware of the fact that he had not always been incredibly, heart-breakingly attractive.

“Thiiiis is him getting in the tub. When he was younger Lip had started taking showers, but Ian was still too small so he used to flash his ass whenever he got in the tub just to fuck with me when I was giving him a bath.” Fiona explained over Mickey’s shoulder. “He had that birthmark on his ass forever.”

Mickey chuckled. “Hey, still does.”

Oh Christ.

“Hey!” Ian growled snatching the photo album from over their heads and holding it to his chest. “Fiona how fucking could you?!”

Mickey turned to look up at him with glee.

“Awww don’t be like that Freckles we were just getting to the wonder years.”

“When would that be Mick? When my hair was so thick the dickheads in the third grade would take turns throwing erasers at my head to see who could penetrate the ‘curl’ as they called it? Or when I was so pale kids used to call me Caspar the friendly ghost’s bastard child?!” He demanded voice edging near hysterics.

“Well that’s not fair . . .  The curl? That’s not even original.” Mickey shook his head.

“Why do you call him freckles anyway?” Lip asked. “He doesn’t even have them anymore.”

Mickey’s grin widened. “He’s still got a couple. Right on his—”

“MICKEY!”

“I thought he was cute.” Mandy shrugged. “I like the Caspar bastard child thing.”

Fiona cackled. “We were just having fun Ian.”

“This is not fun for me you assholes! I’m a model dammit my boyfriend doesn’t need to know I was the fucking ugly duckling of the family.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ you’re so goddamn dramatic all the time will you relax? You were… kind of adorable Gallagher.”

“I was a giant freckle with legs and an untamable mane of orange hair.” Ian mumbled.

“Well maybe that’s how I like my kids. Pale and freckly.”

“That’s really fucking weird dude.” Lip interjected.

“Shut the fuck up Lip.” He spat voice quickly softening as he turned to Mickey. “Really?”

“Well yea . . . Christ why wouldn’t I think you were a cute kid?”

“That’s so sweet.” Ian smiled tossing the photo album to the side and plopping down on Mickey’s lap.

“Fuck Ian. You really are bipolar huh?” He grunted trying to keep his big pile of ginger on his lap.

But Ian was too elated at Mickey’s blatant love for him. He took his face in his too big hands pulling Mickey’s lips flush against his in front of his entire family. Ignoring the burning in Mickey’s cheeks he fisted his hands in Mickey’s shirt kissing and nibbling at his lips until they were both out of breath.

“Damn I oughta embarrass you more often.” Mickey mumbled staring at Ian.

“So . . . What’s for breakfast?!” Ian said with a grin.

Carl finally decided to speak up then causing the entire family to roll their eyes.

“Wait I don’t get it where are the freckles?”

Home sweet home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't not sneak in Noel's Caspar line, it just needed to be done. Plus Lip's an asshole. Probably always will be tbh. I went back and forth with the whole Mandy and him thing but in the end i just don't he's good enough for her despite what the fucking writers obviously thought. I really wanted to give her something worthy of the character. Plus sibling bonding between the Milkovich's is my fucking favorite. I also really like that moment with Ian and Lip were he see why he's such an asshole. Doesn't fix it but it softens the blow a little right?


	20. Second Guessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck happened in the three hours that I left you alone. Where is Ian to keep track of your midget ass?” 
> 
> He scoffed. “Too bad Ian’s the fucking problem.” 
> 
> “The fuck you mean Ians the problem? We just spent a weekend learning that Ian Gallagher is the cutest human being ever. If you don’t marry him I will happily invest in a strap on and marry him myself
> 
> As if that mental image was scarring enough, his throat completely closed off at the word marriage. He tried to breathe through the panic taking over his system. It was like a thick fog clogging up his mind One year with Ian and he’d fucked up numerous times. He could only imagine what the fuck would take place if he asked Ian to be with him forever. He wasn’t worthy and never would be. He couldn’t stand putting Ian through that.

“What’s that?” Ian asked eyeing the piece of paper in Mickey’s hand.

They were outside Svetlana’s apartment to pick up Sammy after a very long week with the Gallaghers.

Mickey shrugged. “Just something I drew for the kid on the ride back since I’m never allowed to see him again and all.”

It was a big drawing of Michelangelo holding a pizza that read “I’m sorry” in pepperoni. It was actually the cutest fucking thing Ian had ever seen in his life and he had no problem voicing that.

“Oh my god that’s so fucking cute I actually can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Mickey asked.

“I can’t like I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?! The fuck is wrong with you Gallagher?”

“Can’t as in can’t even? It’s what the kids say Jesus Mickey you’re about to be twenty-five not seventy-five act like it.”

“Stupid fucking random ass sayings like I would even know what the hell that means. I can’t even. What the entire fuck.” He grumbled.

They were interrupted by Svetlana opening the door, the look on her face clear that they hadn’t gone unheard in their conversation.

“If it isn’t orange boy and loud bottom who terrorizes my Yevgeny with filthy mouth and little drawings.”

“I told you I wanted to say outside Jesus.” Mickey mumbled.

“How would you have showed Svet this beautiful drawing if you’d stayed downstairs?” Ian grinned snatching the paper up and making his way into the apartment.

Mickey snatched it back staying as close to the door as possible while cursing under his breath.

Sammy was on Ian in seconds attacking his owner with enthusiastic licks and nuzzles. Ian beamed scratching his little buddy and rubbing at the thick coat of fur. He’d missed him a little too much to be normal. Both Mickey and Svetlana stared at him cooing to a dog like it was his first born child. Mickey hadn’t decided whether or not he hated the thing despite how annoying he very clearly was.

“Mommy can I have a—UNCLE MICKEY, UNCLE IAN!”

Mickey was suddenly being tackled by his own little rascal, but at least his rascal was potty trained. He lifted the kid up off the ground holding him awkwardly in his arm and handing his the drawing.

Yev gasped. “My favorite! Mama look it’s Michelangelo my favorite ninja turtle isn’t Mickey the greatest?!”

Svetlana fixed her son with a glare murmuring to him in Russian.

“But he said he’s sorry and so did I and my teacher said that we should forgive others when they say sorry. We didn’t mean it right Mickey?” He whined hitting Mickey with his little fist.

“Oh uh right, yea we’re really sorry.” Mickey nodded refusing to pass up a moment to fuck with the obnoxious woman.

It continued on for a while, Yevgeny getting increasingly upset by the second. He got particularly mad when Svetlana told him to get down from Mickey’s arms. The poor little guy was so upset he didn’t know what to do with himself. His face got really red and he kept rubbing at his eyes trying to hide his tears. He stomped off to his room not wanting to cry in front of his new friend leaving Svetlana to sigh and go after him. Ian was still sitting on the floor letting Sammy slobber all over him.

“You actually wanna do that shit for the rest of your life?”

He shrugged. “Coming from a big family makes you miss the chaos. Besides, with someone I loved…doesn’t sound so bad.”

But he had that twinkle in his eye that Mickey hated, only because he loved it so much.

“Don’t look at me like that. One year relationships do not constitute talks about kids. It ain’t fuckin happenin’.”

Ian just smiled like he knew something Mickey didn’t continuing to scratch at Sammy’s ears. Mickey felt nervous under that gaze. It always gave him the sense that Ian was so sure of them in a way that Mickey didn’t know how to be. Ian knew how to be in love and how to progress relentlessly in their relationship. Mickey was just stumbling through life trying to keep up. It was hard as all fuck but looking over at the dopey dork on the floor sobbing over their dog made his heart feel really fucking full. He knew that it was so worth it in the end. He just got scared sometimes.

They opted to walk home instead of the train holding hands and letting Sammy get his exercise in. It tugged at the corners of his mind as they walked. What was he doing with Ian? They lived together, they had a dog, and they paid bills together. It hadn’t seemed like too much at the time. It was always just pushing a little more at himself, chipping away at his fears to get to this Nirvana with Ian.  It was always just one more little thing. Now he was standing their coming up on a one year anniversary and he couldn’t see where his life ended and Ian’s began. They were one.

He’d eaten Thanksgiving dinner with his boyfriend’s family for Christ’s sake. He’d looked at baby pictures of the red head with his pasty ass pointed at the camera. All of a sudden it became a daunting thought weighing down on his mind. Because people did serious shit after a year all the time. People got married. People had kids for a lot less than a year that’s for damn sure. And he knew that that’s what Ian would want, that that’s what he deserved at the end of the day. It scared the living shit out of him. He’d never been so deep before, had never let someone crawl inside and make themselves comfortable. Now he had no idea how to get rid of him. And worse of all he wasn’t sure—no he knew that he didn’t want to.

Ian looked over at Mickey who’d been silent since they left Lana’s. He seemed like there was something on his mind and although it was in Ian’s natural instinct to press Mickey into telling him he knew that Mickey would tell him whatever was bothering him whenever he was ready just like always. When they got home Mickey said he was gonna go talk to Mandy which seemed good cause the only person in the world who knew Mickey better than Ian was Mandy.

“Alright uh I—I’ll just unpack and maybe make some lunch? You want those cheesy potatoes?”

Mickey stared at him for a minute with the same distant look on his face from before. Then it was just like he melted, like he’d never been frozen at all.

“’Course I want the cheesy potatoes. Make that garlic bread you make too I love that.”

Ian smiled warmly leaning in to kiss him. “Anything for you.”

Mickey seemed hesitant when he pressed their lips together.

“I’ll be back alright?”

“Mkay.”

He took off then leaving Ian and Sammy alone in the apartment. Ian stared down at his adorable puppy who didn’t look too much like a puppy anymore and was giving him a very knowing look.

“Oh shut up what do you know? You’re a dog, nothing’s wrong. Shhh.”

*                                                                             *                                                             *

 

Mickey didn’t bother knocking just like Mandy never bothered knocking, instead using the copy of the key he’d stolen from her apartment and letting himself in. He figured she’d be sleeping after the long trip or maybe doing laundry, watching chick flicks to rid herself of the memory of Assface Gallagher. He should’ve known his sister better but he definitely didn’t expect to watch in on her riding some jerk-off tits a blazing.

“Oh for fuck’s sakes Mandy put all that away nobody wants to see that shit!”

“Goddammit Mickey get the fuck out!”

“I need to talk to you about actual important shit going on. Your fucking vagina isn’t gonna combust if you don’t have a dick in you for longer than ten minutes I promise.”  He gagged stalking off to raid her fridge while she got rid of her booty call.

By the time Mandy got the dude out of her apartment and found her clothes again Mickey was in her kitchen pulling any form of food he could find out and stuffing hiser face. She watched on in disgust as he drank milk straight from the carton and pouring half a bottle of chocolate syrup in his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at her snatching up a poptart and crumbling it into his mouth.

“What? I eat when I’m stressed bitch.” He mumbled.

She rolled her eyes taking a seat across from him.

“What the fuck happened in the three hours that I left you alone. Where is Ian to keep track of your midget ass?”

He scoffed. “Too bad Ian’s the fucking problem.”

“The fuck you mean Ian’s the problem? We just spent a weekend learning that Ian Gallagher is the cutest human being ever. If you don’t marry him I will happily invest in a strap on and marry him myself.”

As if that mental image was scarring enough, his throat completely closed off at the word marriage. He tried to breathe through the panic taking over his system. It was like a thick fog clogging up his mind. One year with Ian and he’d fucked up numerous times. He could only imagine what the fuck would take place if he asked Ian to be with him forever. He wasn’t worthy and never would be. He couldn’t stand putting Ian through that.

“What is it Mick?” She asked genuinely worried after his reaction to her words.

He shrugged looking down at his peanut butter. “Stupid fucking redhead with that beautiful ass smile.”

“Huh?”

“We went to that bitch of a boss of his to get the fucking dog and the fucking kid came over and jumped into my arms and she made him leave. Then I go run my big gigantic fucking mouth asking him if he wants kids and dumbass over there basically says it wouldn’t be so bad if he had someone he loved to help him. Like me. And he fucking smiled that stupid ass smile that tells me he knows what he’s doing. This idiot trusts me and he loves me and he wants to be with me and that doesn’t make any fucking sense. How can he trust me to not break his heart when I can’t even trust myself? I don’t get it.”

She nodded taking it all in while simultaneously grabbing them both cigarettes and lighting them.

“So you’re afraid of commitment? That’s not exactly new.”

He shrugged. “I’m afraid that he wants commitment . . . and that I’m never gonna be able to give it to him even though he really fucking deserves it.”

“Well Mick you don’t have to adopt some baby from Africa and take it to the gap to be committed to him. You don’t sleep around you don’t think about other guys, you don’t even let guys hit on you to get free drinks at bars. You are committed.” She insisted.

But he shook his head almost violently. “What happens when he decides that’s not enough? He wants fucking kids Mandy. He wants wedding vows and pieces of paper that mean nothing but mean everything. And I can’t fucking do it . . . I’m not fucking good enough for that.”

“How the fuck would you know what he wants what even brought all this up?”

He shrugged eyes on his cigarette. “During Thanksgiving we . . . you know. But it was different. He was different.”

“What you trying to tell me Gallagher ain’t hittin’ it right? I’ve seen his penis what can’t he hit?”

“Jesus fuck Mandy no he’s just fine in the sac fuck you very much.  Kind of mind blowing if I do say so myself. I meant that like . . . we moved slower. He kept touching my face and shit and we kissed the entire time. We don’t usually do it like that. It’s always rough and hard until one of us gives out and this…it was more.”

She stared at him for a second waiting for it to click, and when it didn’t sighed because Christ her brother was stupid.

“He made love to you dumbass.”

Mickey’s eyes widened as his brains struggled to comprehend the complex information. Goosebumps quickly formed on the back of his neck, his throat drying out slowly. Something about it felt dirty, immoral even like Ian had taken something from him without his permission. Ian had made love to him. There was no impending doom hanging over their heads, no heart ache or stride. He’d made love to him because he wanted to, and Mickey hadn’t even fucking realized it.

“Mick you okay?”

He shook his head taking shaky breathes to calm himself down. Mandy gave him time looking on with an anxious expression upon her face. His silence always said more than his words.

“Things moving too fast?” She whispered.

And in that moment he had to say yes because it was just too overwhelming. His entire body was trembling at the idea of it. He started thinking of everything he’d ever done for Ian, every time he’d looked outside of himself for the benefit of someone beside himself. He’d known it was scary before but now everything was crashing down on him. He couldn’t breathe. It was all too much.

“You gotta go talk to him then. It’s not fair to either of you to lead him on.”

He wanted to argue and tell her he wasn’t leading Ian on, he loved him, but the words got stuck in his throat. He was stuck. Mandy pushed him gently toward the door telling him to come back if he needed. He walked back to his apartment numbly; the sound of Ian singing to some stupid pop tune while Sammy barked along ringing through the walls. He subconsciously thought no wonder the neighbors were complaining the walls were paper thin. Inside their apartment Ian was stood at the stove cooking away for Mickey.

Something like anger flared in his chest. Why’d Gallagher have to go and be all fucking perfect and ruin everything? He wanted him to be selfish, to only cook for himself and give Mickey a “fuck you looking at?” look. He wanted friction and miscommunication and strife because it’s the only thing he’d known his whole life. The making love, the talks of marriage and babies, he didn’t want it. How could he?

“Hey babe chicken should be done in a few minutes. You want a beer?”

“Fuck Ian we gotta talk.” He gasped choking on the words.

“Ah what’s wrong, Mandy make you mad?” He grinned moving towards Mickey to kiss him.

He stepped away motioning toward the record player. “Christ just turn that off.”

“Hey what is it? What’s wrong?” He asked voice losing its calmness immediately as he turned the music off.

“This.” He insisted gesturing between them. “Us.”

“Mick that’s not fucking funny.” Ian muttered eyes widening angrily.

Mickey could feel his pulse quickening as he settled into familiar territory. Anger. He could do anger, he could do anger with the fucking best of them. He reached for Ian crashing their lips together. His fingers were a fury tugging at Ian’s hair as he bit into his lips pulling roughly. He wanted blood and spit and rage. He wanted it to hurt like it always had, it some sick sadistic way because that’s how simple it used to be. It used to hurt so good. Then Ian was pulling him close, tugging him by his hips and holding him closer. His tongue was soft and sure in his mouth. There was no anger, no outrage. It was love. Fucking love.

“Shit.” He griped pulling away and rubbing at his bottom lip. “Stop that. Stop fucking touching me like you love me or something”

“What in the hell is the matter with you Mickey?”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “You fucking made love to me. You took me up to your bed from when you were a kid and you did all this shit to make me feel…important. I’m not fucking ready. I—I can’t go adopt some Yevgeny or watch the fucking sunset or exchange vows over some fucking bouquet of flowers alright? It’s been a year and I can’t do it!”

“Hey, hey look at me.” Ian demanded taking Mickey’s face forcefully in his own hands. “No one’s fucking asking you to. I’m not pushing you to do anything you’re not ready for. I just want you!”

“You just want me till you start dropping hints. First it’s kissing on the mouth and then it’s holding hands in public, moving in, getting me to dance in the middle of some pub in Paris, then it’s a fucking dog, then all of a sudden we gotta get a house because the neighbors hear us fucking at night! It’s always enough until it’s fucking not Ian!”

“I don’t know what you want me to do. You want me to pretend like this is what I want forever? It’s not. I do want a fucking house and I do want kids and I want a fucking wedding with a big ass cake with two grooms on it and I wanna shove yours down so that it’s noticeably shorter than mine. I want all of that. But I want it with you Mick. You’re the one who made me feel like I deserve these things I don’t want any of it if it’s not you. It doesn’t mean I want it today or tomorrow or next week I just wanna know that it’s there, that you’re willing to be more with me. Why is that so hard?”

“Because it’s not me. That’s not what I am.” He pleaded struggling to get Ian to understand.

Ian shook his head, not having it. “Mickey when are you gonna realize that that kid from the Southside who didn’t take showers and kicked the shit out of kids for sheer enjoyment isn’t fucking you? You keep taking one step forward and then getting scared and jumping back three feet. You don’t know what you are. Because you love me and you let me make love to you and you fucking liked it and you don’t know what to do with that.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey mumbled stepping backwards.

But Ian kept coming, kept forcing his way inside of Mickey’s skin like he always did. Like only he could. But there wasn’t enough room. The seams were starting to split.

“You can see it. You can see what life with me could be like and you want it. You wanna paint a fucking fence with me and knock over a gallon paint trying to turn some dump into a home. You wanna see what it would be like if you wrote vows, just to see how they feel on your tongue. And it’s so goddamn scary, I know. I’m scared too. There’s nothing scarier than giving yourself to someone, but we do it. You and me we keep giving ourselves to each other and that’s all that matters. You don’t have to be afraid of me I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Mickey kept shaking his head trying to rid himself of the words but Ian was too close. He didn’t know how to say it. To tell him it wasn’t his feelings he cared about but Ian’s. His big, strong hands gripped Mickey’s face keeping them close enough that he could feel his boyfriend’s heat, strong against his body. Their lips so close every breath he took tickled Mickey’s lips.

“Never wanna hurt you, just wanna love you.” He whispered.

He kissed him slow and yearning fingers clutching hard at Mickey’s skull. They were both so stubborn, so forceful with trying to get the other to see what they thought was right. It left them at an impasse, both of them shoving but neither of them able to get the upper hand. Ian just wanted to love and be loved. Mickey just wanted to do the same but only on his own conditions. Each of them stood trying to protect their view on life, refusing to see any other point, and all it did was cause pain.

Mickey doesn’t realize he’s crying until he hears the sniffling and looks up to see that it isn’t coming from Ian. He struggled to force the water back inside, to put back up the wall that screams “I don’t give a fuck about anyone” but he can’t. It’s been knocked down, and he’s got nothing else left to hide behind. All he can do is be truthful, and shit no wonder he never did because it hurts like a bitch.

“I gotta . . . I need time.” He mumbled pathetically.

Ian inhaled sharply, the pains socking him directly in his chest. Because all he’s hearing is that Mickey doesn’t want him. Mickey doesn’t need him.  It’s every fear that he carries with him every day nagging softly at the very back of his mind, but now he can’t shove it away. Mickey doesn’t want him. He’s disposable as ever.

“W—What?”

It’s all four word sentences. Short and choppy and rigid.

“Just a few days. I’ll stay at Mandy’s. I need to breathe.”

Ian took a step back trying not to let himself crumble at the hands of his lover. He wanted to fall to the ground and beg, to scream for Mickey not to leave him like everyone else. But he can’t. This fucked up thing called loved made him want only happiness Mickey even when it involved tearing him apart.

“Okay.”

It felt all wrong on his tongue. Like he was trying to nod and shake his head all at the same time. Mickey was staring at him with sad, pity-filled eyes and he hated him in that moment. He hated him for making him fall in love. He hated him for bringing him in so deep and then forcing him to climb his way back out. It wasn’t fair and it hurt. Oh god did it hurt.

Mickey nodded sniffling a final time to shove it all back in. He leaned up on the tips of his toes pressing his lips harshly to Ian’s forehead before sneaking past and heading right out the door. Ian followed, if only to close the door and collapse against it in a spout of sadness and pain. Mickey was no different on the other side of the wall, feeling as though he’d just torn his own heart from his chest and thrown it to the ground. It was the pain of love, of allowing another person to have a pull on you. It isn’t always easy and it isn’t always smooth sailing. It hurts to love. And in that moment, for the both of them, it just hurt way too fucking much.

*                                                                                             *                                                             *

 

Mickey: _You take your meds last night? And wake up you gotta take them again._

Ian: _k._

The overwhelming amount of hostility that came in literally one letter was actually astounding. Mickey’s mental clock was used to rolling over to catch Gallagher taking his meds and without him in his bed he had to make sure he was okay. But the weight of their argument from the day before was still crushing him. He’d walked out. And it felt like a mistake the second that he did, but he’d had no other options. He needed the space. He needed room to figure out why he was so terrified. At the end of the day Mickey didn’t know what he wanted like Ian, and maybe he just thought that with some distance he might be able to figure it out, which he was definitely going to do . . . eventually.

Instead he spent the night on Mandy’s couch eating her ice-cream and wallowing in self-pity. No matter what he did he couldn’t get that wounded look of Gallagher’s face out of his mind. He made Fiona’s dead bambi’s mom eyes look like tears of joy. And it was all his fucking fault. How could he ever take some time to think about himself when the only thoughts that came to mind were what a bastard he was. Sleeping was pathetic. He spent half the night staring at the door and willing himself not to go crawl into bed with his big pile of ginger and just give in. The other half was tossing and turning and failing at not thinking about Ian. It was one of the worst nights ever.

Ian’s night was no better. Sure he had Sammy to cuddle and cry into, but he also had a big bed that was supposed to be shared with his boyfriend. He had dinner for two, a pillow that reeked of Mickey that he couldn’t help but hold. He kept trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. How could he fix things between them when he hadn’t been aware they were ever broken? It sucked. Things had been going so well. The entire time they’d been in Chicago Ian had been watching Mickey slip into his life so perfectly. He’d thought that they were happy, that they were moving toward something together. It had never been his intent to push Mickey into anything. Regardless it seemed he’d found a way to push him right out the door.

There was no one there to hold him when his meds would make him shake. No one there to laugh with him and make breakfast for and watch cartoons until it was time to go to work. Being in that apartment without Mickey; it felt as though someone had died, like he was just walking around staring at distant memories. It hurt. It hurt so bad. And it was all his fault too.

“I’m going to work. You want me to check on Ian?” Mandy asked catching her brother staring at the front door for the tenth time that morning.

Their relationship had evolved the more that Mickey had evolved. He tried not to snap at her as often, tried a more human approach instead of being an asshole. It didn’t always work but on days like that day where he had no energy to be anything other than broken, it worked like a charm.

“Yea.” His voice broke instantly. “You don’t think he’d hurt himself cause of me do you?”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself. That’s really not fair Mickey. He’s stronger than that.” She chastised.

“What the fuck are you still doing here just go check on him Christ Mandy!” He screamed.

So much for talking like a human being.

“You’re hurting so I’m gonna let the bullshit slide, but when this is all over I’m kicking your ass.” She muttered stomping towards the door.

He waited till her footsteps had faded to wipe viciously at his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to hurt that much to be away from someone. Ian had left for shoots for days at a time, sometimes a week, and it was always hard but never like this. It never felt like he was burning because he couldn’t hold him, couldn’t touch him or know that he was breathing. Ian wasn’t just his boyfriend and his lover, he was his best friend. It was like Ian’s page had been torn out of Mickey’s book leaving an ugly gap in the story, never truly making any sense. More than anything it just hurt. It really hurt to not have him by his side.

“Ian it’s Mandy open up!”

She could hear Sammy barking sadly at his owner who hadn’t gotten out of bed since Mickey had reminded him to take his meds. They were both acting so out of character that neither Sammy nor Mandy knew what to do. When man’s best friend and “loving” sister couldn’t fix it, things were rough. It became quickly clear that Ian wasn’t going to open the door so she let herself in taking in the big lump in the sheets that was Ian from the hallway. He was lying on Mickey’s side of the bed clutching Mickey’s pillow to his face like he would lose the smell any other way and it was painful to watch. He didn’t know he could love someone as much as he loved Mickey. And now that he had, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to again.

“Hey,” She mumbled crawling into bed with him and Sammy. “What’s wrong?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “You should know; it’s sleeping on your couch.”

“It’s just hard for him okay? Marriage and stuff, it’s never really worked out well on our side.” 

“No one fucking asked him to get married. Never. I never asked him to have a kid with me or anything. He’s just scared he might actually want a life where he’s not punishing himself for being happy. He’s a scared pussy and I’m of walking on fucking egg shells because of it.”

“Damn Gallagher, tired of taking shit huh?” She smirked.

“Tired of people walking away. Tired of people promising to stay and then leaving. Everyone always leaves.”

She couldn’t help but stare at her best friend and feel terrible for ever suggesting that Mickey stay with her. Mickey was sitting at her apartment miserable, Ian was at home looking just as sad. Space was supposed to fix things, supposed to give them time to relax and breathe and all that shit. Little had she known that the only thing that calmed either of them down was each other. It felt like it was all her fault.

“Hey you guys will be okay Ian. You two are the fucking Ross and Rachel of this shit hole world.”

He shrugged lifelessly. “We’ll see.”

She kept waiting for him to speak, to snap out of it and say “ha you should have seen your face!” It didn’t happen. He just lied there staring at the wall like it was the reason for all the pain of the world. By the time she could pull herself out of the bed she was already late for work. And for the first time she didn’t really know what would happen with Ian and her brother. They had both had made up their minds on something and it didn’t seem like either of them would change how they felt. But the thought of their story, of their love ending the way her and Lip had ended had Mandy struggling to focus the rest of the day. Because as cynical as she was she had to believe that when the love was real and true that things would always be okay. But a part of her couldn’t escape this nagging question at the forefront of her mind. What if they wouldn’t?

 

 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hard chapter to write but i think it's important to the arc of Mickey's character which you'll see in upcoming chapters. I promise I'm not just adding angst for the sake of angst lol. Also you might have noticed we now have a set amount of chapters. 4 more to wrap everything up and every chapter is my favorite so i hope you guys like it! I may have just signed up for the big bang. Idk why i would do that idk what would make thing that i'm good enough to handle it and i assure you chances are i'm not but i hope you guys will like it and i think it'll be fun. What that means for my writing after this story I'm not sure cause I'basically running with the idea i had for the next fic. So i might do like one shots from now until i finish my rough draft or if you guys wanna send me prompts on tumblr i'd GREATLY appreciate it. Just let me know what you guys would be interested in because yes i write for fun but i obviously right for you too :D comments and kudos always appreciated


	21. Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey sighed in frustration. “I just want you to stop treating this like we’re already over alright? If you’re gonna end it than end it, but this is has to stop. That’s all I fucking want.”
> 
> Ian looked up from his pizza with wide eyes. “I—I’m not doing that.”
> 
> “You are. We don’t talk. We didn’t go out on your stupid day night last Friday. Ten days Ian. You haven’t fucked me in ten days. We don’t go ten hours without it and all of a sudden it’s just nothing. This, what you’re doing, it’s driving me insane. I’m gonna die of sexual frustration before I even reach twenty-five. I’ve been trying to give you space but . . . Jesus.”
> 
> “I was giving you space! I was trying not to push. I—I thought that what you wanted.”
> 
> Mickey’s eyes turned black as he accepted the words. “You tellin’ me I’ve been jacking off in the shower because your stupid ass thought I wanted space?”
> 
> “Well I—hey you’ve been getting off without me? What the fuck Mickey!”

Mickey was on his third beer of the afternoon when Mandy rushed in. She didn’t usually come all the way home for lunch, but she’d called enough times to start screaming at his voicemail, and decided a stop at home wouldn’t hurt. He was sitting there still wallowing in self-pity and she knew what was going on back at the apartment with Ian. Resentment was stating to form, Ian towards Mickey for pushing him away every time things got rough and Mickey towards Ian for pushing him towards something deeper. It was terrifying to watch it from afar. Mandy felt like she was watching them destruct and she couldn’t let things get fucked because of her.

“You gotta go home.” She demanded slamming the door shut.

He looked up at her for a second before his eyes traveled back to the beer bottle in his hand.

“Can’t. Ian doesn’t want me there. I don’t want me there. What’s the point?”

Her hands were quick to snatch a pillow up off the couch and sock it into his head, causing beer to splash everywhere.

“What the fuck Mandy!”

“Listen shithead you promised him. You promised him you wouldn’t leave and then you psyched yourself out and now you’re sitting on my couch while he’s in that apartment thinking that you’ve left him. You can’t do that to him Mickey it’s only gonna cause more issues.”

He hung his head not wanting to tell her that he already knew that. Mickey had gone to the door fifteen times. He’d opened the door seven and made it to the stairs all of three. He knew what he was doing by leaving home. He knew it was sabotage, and he knew it was hurting the only person he really a gave a shit about. But somehow that was better than admitting he wanted things. It was better to not deal at all, than to turn to someone and say “I think I want you forever”. Because one year couldn’t be long enough to know that, and it was absolutely terrifying.

“I can’t.” He mumbled. “I fucking can’t.”

“Do you love him? At all?”

He looked up at her and he just looked so tired. Mickey looked so helpless and defeated and she’d never wanted to hug her brother so much in her entire life.

“Fuck Mandy . . . God I love him so fucking much.” He sniffled shaking his head. “I can’t.”

She sat down on the couch next to him neither of them looking at each other. It was hard enough for them to say what they really felt; looking each other in the eye while doing it was just fucking impossible.

“I get it. One time when I was little, before Mommy died I asked her if she would’ve left if not for us, if she stayed with him because she thought she had no other options. And she said that she stayed for the good times ya know? Like when dad would get a disability check in the mail or score us a new tv and everyone was happy. She said you gotta take the bad with the good sometimes, and that every time Terry would look at her like she was the world was worth all the other shit. I think she was lying now that I look back on it. Or maybe she just never really got to see what love is. But I think that—no I know that I would go through a thousand Lips if it meant finding a fraction of the love you two have, and I think Mommy would’ve done the same. I think Mommy would’ve wanted you to just fucking go for it.” She murmured eyes on her hands.  “I know that you’re scared that you’ve fallen too hard too fast, but… fuck Mickey if being in love is the only thing you’ve got to be afraid of maybe it’s a fear you should fucking embrace for a change.”

Mickey couldn’t stop his head from shaking, the same words stumbling out of his mouth over and over again. _I can’t._ The ultimate excuse to not have to deal with anything. It didn’t help that he was so desperate to be back in Ian’s arms, to love him the way he fucking deserved.

“I don’t wanna let him down. I don’t wanna be another disappointment.” He whispered.

Mandy didn’t mention the irony in his leaving to prevent him from letting Ian down, which in turn would go on to let Ian down. She was trying the supportive sister route. It was a little tougher than the fuck-off-i-can’t-be-bothered-to-deal-with-your-shit routine but she managed.

“Then what the fuck are you still doing here?”

He doesn’t know how to say the words “I’m scared”. Not because it’s Mandy and he has to be tough, but because he’s never been fucking scared of anything the way he is of Ian. He’d taken the ass beating from Terry, had survived the pistol whipping and the broken ribs. Ian was a different monster entirely, because he made him feel like the world was something better than it was. Breathing was better. Waking up in the morning to ginger hair matted against his back where Ian had cuddled into him made life feel brighter. Food tasted better when Ian was trying out some weird ass healthy recipe. He wanted to be strong, to stand tall and tell Ian how he felt, but Mickey had to realize that it wasn’t about him standing up. Love isn’t always what you can do or what you’re willing to give as one person. It’s two people giving and needing and taking and wanting together. A team.

All he’d ever wanted was to be loved. Now that he had it, Mickey had to grow a pair and make sure that that love stuck around.

Back at the apartment Ian had gotten back from a run with Sammy, and after a shower his energy for the day was gone. He’d taken to sleeping on the couch instead of the bed where he just felt dirty and sad. He knew he had work to do. There were picture he had to analyze for his photography class, chapters to read on framing techniques. But he felt pretty content with the whole not moving thing. At least if he didn’t move the pain wouldn’t be so unbearable.

The front door opened while he was working on changing the channel to the television with his mind. Ian didn’t bother looking up figuring it was just Mandy who would make her presence known when she deemed fit. Instead there was suddenly a very short, very attractive complete and total asshole standing in front of him. And as he looked up at Mickey’s face he realized that it hurt. It hurt to look at him and know that he’d left just like everyone else. It was like telling someone that even if you were to find the truest of true loves, there was no guarantee things would work out. It was bullshit.

“Hey.” Mickey mumbled plopping down on their coffee table and turning the tv off.

“Thought you needed a couple days?”

He shook his head softly. “One was enough. Must be a new record for me huh?” 

“Yes Mickey maybe one day you’ll only ditch me for a few hours. If only I could get to be so lucky.”  He sneered rolling over to face the couch.

“You’re mad I understand I just . . . I got a little scared alright? You and me we’re deeper than I thought we were.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means that I love you more than my stupid ass is capable of comprehending alright? Ian I . . . I love you so much it hurts.”

Mickey was grateful that Ian had turned away; it made it easier to say what he was really feeling.

“You know what hurts? Being lied to. Being made to feel that someone cares about you, that they truly wanna be with you and then having the fucking rug tugged right from underneath you every time things get serious. I keep falling for it too I’m so stupid.”

“Stop that. You’re not stupid and there’s nothing to fall for. I love you Ian, you know that.”

He just shrugged. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Hey look at me. Ian, come on look at me please.”

He complied looking up with eyes brimmed in red. Those green beautiful eyes were cornered by puffy skin and tears. It was the most gut wrenching thing Mickey had ever seen, because it was completely and totally his fault.

“You promised. You fucking promised me you wouldn’t leave like everyone else.”

“I didn’t leave you I just needed a second to breathe okay? I had to stop myself from freaking out so that I wouldn’t leave. And the entire time I just wanted to come back up here and be with you, but I never left. I’ll never fucking leave you I need you.” He insisted.

“That’s why the thought of being with me for the rest of your life literally makes it hard for you to breathe right Mick?”

It left him at a loss for words giving Ian a chance to get up off the couch and move away from Mickey. The knife was deep in both of them and it seemed like the other was just twisting it in deeper with each passing second. Mickey couldn’t let him leave though cause he did care and he did love Ian. He followed him into the bathroom where they’d taken baths together, where they’d brushed their teeth beside one another, where they’d fucked in the shower and washed each other’s backs after. Mickey wasn’t willing to give that up yet.

“I fucked up.” He mumbled.

Ian was leaning on the tub, legs stretched out along the floor. It gave Mickey the perfect amount of room to move into his space, to slip his fingers along Ian’s hips just to feel whole again.

“Yea you did.”

“And I’m gonna do that a lot. This isn’t the first time, it won’t be the last. But I love you,” He insisted peering up into green pools. “I love you and I wanna make it work.”

Ian bit his lip struggling to stand his ground. His whole life he’d let people change his mind to suit their needs. But fuck, he had needs to. There were things he wasn’t willing to give up, things that he wanted to fucking experience in his life. He’d already pushed Mickey so far, he didn’t want to break him.

“You already know what I want Mick. And you . . . don’t want that. So what are we doing?” Ian mumbled.

Mickey reached up to takes Ian’s face in the palm of his hand forcing him to look at him.

“You gonna break up with me cause I’m not ready yet?”

“I’m not ready yet either, but I know that I’m gonna want it. I know it’s a deal breaker. Everybody always wants me for whatever they want, whatever they need. What about me?” He begged. “And you’re right. I pushed you. Everything that we are is because I forced you to do things that you weren’t comfortable with and that’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who wants what you want.”

  
“I want you stupid.” Mickey muttered pushing their bodies closer together. “Listen to me alright? Everything that we are is because you forced me to look outside of my fucking shell and see what I really want, what I am. It’s a good thing, not something you should beat yourself up for.”

“How can it be good if you keep finding ways to pull away?”

“Because it’s fucking hard. This right here isn’t easy, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s forced me to learn how to be with someone, someone I’m not willing to be without. I wanna be with you. I’m in it for the fucking long haul.”

Ian looked up in surprise his eyes widening. Mickey had to bite back a smile because he was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“Mick…” He mumbled.

“I am. It’s just hard for me and you know why. Not because of you but because of me and my shit. So you gotta give me time. I’ll work on it cause I want this. I told you you’re not getting rid of me.”

Ian released a breath that he swore he’d been holding forever.

“Okay . . . just—just don’t run away from me like that again. Whatever it is we can work it out but that fucking hurt.”

Mickey reached up capturing Ian’s lips in a kiss. He tried to convey everything he couldn’t say to the pressing of their lips. _I think I wanna spend forever with you. I’m never gonna want anything the way that I want you. I’ll follow you anywhere. **Forever**._

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

The days leading up to Mickey’s birthday were rough. They were trying to rebuild the trust they’d lost, but Svetlana kept booking Ian jobs and with his photography classes and Mickey spending almost all of his time on the art exhibit there wasn’t much time for them to just be together. Things were noticeably different but Mickey didn’t want to make Ian uncomfortable by bringing it up, and Ian didn’t wanna fight with Mickey or admit that he was still hurt. He wanted to believe Mickey, he did, but in all honesty the thought of Mickey Milkovich getting down on one knee seemed like a dream. A beautiful, wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless. And with so much work and so little play, frustrations quickly build up, the tension reaching an all-time high between them.

They tip-toed around each other, Mickey spending his time in his studio and Ian spending more time with Sammy and his photography. They didn’t talk. They didn’t fight. They didn’t bang. And it drove Mickey absolutely insane.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just take him into the bedroom and ride him like a good boyfriend.” Mandy shrugged.

Mickey rolled his eyes keeping his gaze on the canvas. “I’m trying to give him space.”

“He doesn’t want space. Last time you gave him space you almost broke up. You gotta fuck your boyfriend Mickey. It’s like textbook relationship shit.”

“If he wanted to bang Mandy he’d make his needs known. Obviously he needs time.”

“Your birthday is three days away. You gonna keep up this celibacy act on the big two-five?”

He bit his lip ignoring her as he rearranged a piece on an easel. He was trying to focus on his exhibit, but two thirds of the pieces were either directly of Ian or inspired by him in some way. It’s hard to forget about your boyfriend not hitting it at home when you literally have a painting in front of you of him passed out after three rounds in the sac. He missed Ian way too bad for his own good.

Mickey: _Almost my birthday, wanna go out for pizza?_

Ian: _Sure. Meet you at the place_ @ 8?

Mickey: _Okay_

Ian: _k_

“He didn’t even text me I love you. I’m so fucked.”

“Jesus Christ when did you start being such a pussy?” Mandy groaned.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying not to be alone for the rest of my life.” He spat.

“You could just propose to him if it’s that big of a deal to you.”

He gave her a look so full of hate and rage with eyes that burned and cut her down where she stood.

“No more marriage talk. Got it.”

He left soon after that to get to their pizza place on time. The air was turning cold again, bitterly nipping at his ears and cheeks. There was no hand to hold onto as he walked besides his own. No love there to keep him warm and he could feel it. He could feel that the thing with Ian was digging its own hole into him, carving out whole chunks of his chest like he was made of cheese. The crisp, cold air wooshing through his holes and touching at the tender edges of his wounds. He hated it. Fighting was fast, it was passionate and loud and doable. But this impasse, this blatant lack of acknowledgement of their problems that was causing an inability to move forward with their lives and their love was maddening. He just wanted it to stop.

As if to add insult to injury Ian was almost thirty minutes late giving Mickey plenty of time to smoke two cigarettes and seriously contemplate jumping off the fucking Empire State building. He showed up by cigarette three panting and gasping like a wet dog.

“I—I’m here! I’m here!” He gasped.  “I made it, I’m here.”

“Took you long enough.” Mickey muttered stubbing out his smoke.

“Subway was down. Ran here from my photography class.” He panted.

“Jesus Ian that’s what like thirty blocks?”

“Probably more like fifty. At least I got my run in for the day.” He smirked.

Mickey couldn’t help but smile. “You’re an idiot.”

That was the closet they’d gotten to talking in days. The silence that followed had Mickey clinging to words, to anything that could fill the silence that’d been plaguing them for way too long. He stumbled forward catching a hold of Ian’s collar to kiss him viciously. Ian was taken by surprise at Mickey’s eagerness. It didn’t take long for him to kiss back. He reached for Mickey, fingers clutching hair as their tongues were reunited. It was good. To kiss and be kissed after going way too long without it. Mickey found himself grinding against Ian’s thigh like a fucking bitch in heat. It was ridiculous.

“Fuck Ian.” He moaned pulling away.

Ian bit his lip instantly missing the feel of Mickey’s lips on his. They were still in public after all.

“What was that for?”

“For blue balling me for the past ten days.” Mickey rolled his eyes heading for the door. “Let’s go Firecrotch.”

Ian found himself sporting a major grin as he followed his boyfriend into their usual pizza place. Things had been awkward after he’d forgiven Mickey for his little “time out” stunt. He felt like he was just waiting for the next time it would all be too much. He was afraid to kiss Mickey, or touch him or fuck him just in case he did the wrong thing. He’d said he was in it for the long haul, but Ian didn’t know exactly what that meant. He wanted to believe that it meant they were going somewhere, that someday he’d be waking up to a grumpy old ass Mickey with salt and pepper hair and a hearing aid. But the fear of losing him, of not having him at all if he were wrong was too great. He couldn’t do it.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that maybe he’d over done it just a tad.

“What are you thinking so hard about over there?” Mickey asked breaking him from his thoughts with a kick to the ankle. “I think I can smell your brain melting.”

Ian shrugged ignoring his question. “What do you want for you birthday?”

“You actually gettin’ me somethin’ or you am I just gonna come home to empty drawers and a note on the fridge?”

“ _I’m_ not going anywhere.”

He felt bad as soon he said it, watching the hurt flash on Mickey’s face. His entire body rejected the pain. A sad Mickey was a devastated Ian.

“Low blow. Sorry.” He murmured.

Mickey just shrugged looking away. “Whatever.”

The settled again in an awkward silence as their food arrived. Ian wanted to repair the damage that he had caused while still managing to keep his distance.

“You never answered my question.”

Mickey sighed in frustration. “I just want you to stop treating this like we’re already over alrightyou’re you’re gonna end it than end it, but this is has to stop. That’s all I fucking want.”

Ian looked up from his pizza with wide eyes. “I—I’m not doing that.”

“You are. We don’t talk. We didn’t go out on your stupid day night last Friday. Ten days Ian. You haven’t fucked me in ten days. We don’t go ten hours without it and all of a sudden it’s just nothing. This, what you’re doing, it’s driving me insane. I’m gonna die of sexual frustration before I even reach twenty-five. I’ve been trying to give you space but . . . Jesus.”

“I was giving you space! I was trying not to push. I—I thought that what you wanted.”

Mickey’s eyes turned black as he accepted the words. “You tellin’ me I’ve been jacking off in the shower because your stupid ass thought _I_ wanted space?”

“Well I—hey you’ve been getting off without me? What the fuck Mickey!”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen please. As much as I do enjoy your stories this is a family restaurant.” Polo said from his usual spot behind the counter.

As usual they were the only ones there.

“Fuck off Polo.” Mickey grumbled eyes still on Ian. “You’re an idiot. A true and actual fucking idiot you know that? Jesus Christ Ian why would I want space from you? I came back home because space was driving me crazy.”

All he did was give that little pathetic shrug again picking at his pizza like it was the least appetizing thing in the whole world.

“I didn’t want you to run away again . . . I wanted you to be satisfied with me.”

Mickey groaned as the realization that he was the asshole in this equation dawned on him. For making Ian feel like he wasn’t enough. For not telling him that he was everything. It occurred to him how good it felt to hear shit like that every now and again. And all he wanted was to make Ian feel good. Mickey slid to Ian’s side of their booth blocking them from any wandering eyes. His finger’s molded to the shape of Ian’s cheek keeping his eyes on his mouth as he spoke so he didn’t have to look him in the eye.

“This thing of yours where you think you’re not enough has to stop. You’re perfect shithead. I don’t want . . .  I don’t need anything as long as I’ve got you. And I do need you. I told you to stick around for a reason. Cause I don’t know what I’d ever do without you. All I want for my birthday is to be done with this. Can we do that please?”

Ian’s finger touched his chin coaxing him up so their eyes met. A world of blue and green meeting. There’s a softness in their eyes that’s been missing for days now. The burden of not understanding was finally lifted, no one was giving the other space, and they were able to just be. That kiss, that moment of release for the both of them was more amazing than any level of fucking could bring.

“Sorry for pulling away. Wasn’t fair to you.” Ian mumbled, their foreheads pressed together.

“’S okay. Sorry for leaving, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“I forgive you.”

Because it wasn’t okay and it would never be okay and Mickey could surely live with that.

They smiled shyly at each other in their own little world where nothing could penetrate the love that they shared. Nothing of course but the tears of a grown man.

“Bravo! That’s so goddamn adorable!” Polo cried in his heavy Brooklyn accent.

They both looked over as the man wiped at his face with a dirty towel, getting flour everywhere in the process.

“Polo, man, you gotta go home to your wife. We cannot be the only source of action in your life.” Mickey said.

He was met with the middle finger causing a smirk to form on his lips. New York wasn’t Chicago but they sure as hell had their parallels.

“Can we eat dinner now? I actually haven’t eaten today.” Ian groaned.

“Being without me make food not taste as good huh?” Mickey smirked moving to his side of the booth.

“Sure babe, if that’s what you want to believe.”

But he hooked their ankles together beneath the table as they ate and their chests didn’t feel so heavy and it got easier to breathe because their love made the world lighter, and their love gave living a whole new meaning.

“We’re gonna fuck when we get home right?”

“I don’t know Mick, three more days and I could give you the best birthday sex this world has ever seen. Hmmm….”

“Oh shit there you go fucking thinking again.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Three days. Three long, terrible, absolutely torturous days. It was hell. Mickey had hurt Ian and as some cruel satanic payback he was forced to endure the rest of his dry spell without so much as a hand job. He hadn’t gone that long without jerking off since he’d discovered the wonders of gay porn. It was ridiculous but he did it anyway because Ian had turned him into an absolute pussy.

“My fucking sister asks you fucked me so hard I lost consciousness alright?” He muttered.

Ian just laughed dryly. “Whatever you want. Now sit down.”

“The fuck I gotta sit down for?” He protested while simultaneously doing it anyway.

Ian reached into his pocking pulling out the bottle of lube that they usually kept in their bed side table. Mickey throbbed uncomfortably in his jeans at the sight. If cutting him off was torture, whatever the fuck this was would surely kill him.

“What the fuck Ian?”

“The way I see it,” He grinned popping the button on his jeans and working the denim over his hips. “You’ve been getting off while I’ve been sitting here too worried about the actual future of our relationship to even get a half chub. We got a score to settle here Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes rested desperately on the hard on poking against Ian’s black boxer-briefs a wet stain just barely visible at the head. It was thick and slimy and jesus he needed him in one of the orifices of his body.

“You pull that thing out and there’s no way I’m gonna be able to sit here.” He said incredulously.

“You _will_ sit there. You _will_ watch. And you will _not_ touch yourself. Is that clear?”

“Ian…” He practically keened.

“Is that clear?” He repeated voice firm.

“Y—yes.”

“Good boy.”

Ian tugged at his underwear pushing them just far enough down his hips to release his cock. It was red and swollen, pre-cum oozing steadily down the side. Mickey quickly sat on his hands to contain himself, his mouth watering at the sight. Ian warmed the lube up between his fingers, though he probably didn’t even need it at that point, grabbing firmly at his flesh.

“Oh fuck. Shit that’s it.” He whined rocking his hips mechanically. “I need it so bad Mickey.”

They both knew he wouldn’t last long. Ian’s libido was even more extreme than Mickey’s and ten days of nothing had to be brutal. So he made a show of it whining and panting and biting at his lips until they were red and wet and puffy. Mickey was on the verge of tears or unconsciousness he wasn’t exactly sure which. But it was like a car accident, he couldn’t look away. Ian’s hand became a blur, moans filling the air beautifully. It was white, hot torture and Mickey loved every second of it.

He came in hot bursts almost stumbling over as his knees shook from the weight of his orgasm. It was so hot Mickey was sure he would die. His dick had never been so hard in his entire life. And then he realized that it was over and he wouldn’t get to touch Ian or himself and he kind of wanted to cry.

“Wow that was good.” Ian chuckled wiping his hand on his underwear wasting cum that Mickey surely could’ve made some use of.

Mickey got up then teeth clenched and his hands like claws at his side.

“Where ya going Mick?” Ian asked collapsing on the bed.

“To take a very cold shower.”

“Remember no touching yourself!”

“Oh fuck off.” He muttered.

But he didn’t. _Such a fucking pussy._

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

It was a wet dream. A very hot, kinky wet dream that could only happen in the deep sick corners of Mickey’s mind. He was tied down to the bed a plug placed firmly in his ass and a beautiful redhead with his mouth on his cock. Mickey couldn’t stop his hips from moving shoving his dick down Ian’s throat until he gagged fingers gripping desperately at his waist to slow down. Nothing was hotter than watching him gag, then seeing his lips pulse with blood the longer they sucked and slurped. Saliva dripped from his chin, stringy and sloppy everywhere. God he wanted to touch him. Hold him. Be brutally fucked by him.

It was a dream so he might as well enjoy it right? He might as well be open and tell Ian that he loved his cock, that he wanted his body on his, wanted to lick the sweat from every inch of his skin. His skull throbbed from the weight of his desires. He needed Ian. And it was a dream so he could have him anyway he fucking pleased. It was a dream, until it wasn’t a dream.

Mickey opened his eyes the sun just barely filtering in through their blinds and illuminating his boyfriend with its glow. He was lying firmly between Mickey’s thighs hands exploring his body as he deep throated Mickey’s cock. Mickey clenched uncontrollably already on the edge of cumming not knowing how to bring himself off the edge. Ten days without sexual stimulation from your partner kind of does that to a man.

“Oh shit Ian.” He whined gritting Ian’s hair with his fingers.

Then Ian Gallagher, king of the dickheads began to hum with his boyfriend’s dick down his throat. But he didn’t just hum an involuntary sound with no rhyme or reason to it. He specifically began to hum happy birthday while managing to cradle Mickey’s balls which is a very interesting set of skills to have. Mickey didn’t have a chance in hell shooting his load depressingly quick down Ian’s throat body going rigged from the force.

“Happy birthday.” Ian panted against his thigh, a smirk thick on his big, full lips.

Mickey collapsed back on their bed already ready for a nap. “Shit.”

Ian bounced out of bed in nothing but those tight boxer briefs that Mickey was slowing falling in love with leaving him in his post orgasmic bliss. It was already the best birthday ever. Then he came in with pancakes and Mickey was sure it was the best day ever period. Damn did he love his pancakes. They had fucking sprinkles on them and syrup and a fucking candle. God he loved Ian Gallagher.

“Pancakes for the birthday boy?” He smirked setting a tray on Mickey’s lap.

Sex and breakfast. The key to Mickey’s heart.

“What no bib? Or cheesy eggs?”

“Shut the fuck up and eat your pancakes. Denny’s doesn’t have shit on my pancakes. I got your cheesy eggs too thank you very much.”

“I love you.” Mickey grinned.

“Of course you do I just sucked your dick and made you pancakes you better fucking love me.” He murmured reaching over to kiss Mickey squarely on the lips.

 Ian disappeared again only to come bustling back in a few minutes later with his arms completely full. He had the eggs, plus enough bacon to make up an entire pig, all sitting on a big box neatly wrapped with a bow on top, not to mention two forty ounces fresh and chilled from the fridge.

Mickey gasped. “Gallagher you shouldn’t have…”

Ian laughed handing him a beer. “I thought you’d like that.”

He climbed back into bed sitting criss cross applesauce next to his boyfriend enjoying the sight of a man way too excited for cheap beer and pancakes. He knew Mickey would’ve been just happy with breakfast and a beer. Mickey was weird like that. He wanted to do more though, wanted to give him more. Hell he wanted to give him everything, he was just too afraid to ask if that’s what Mickey wanted. And in reality he would’ve gone all out even if they had made up just a few days prior. He loved Mickey way too much not to celebrate his birth of all occasions.

“Where’s my fucking birthday kiss huh?” Mickey murmured.

He grinned forgetting his thoughts as he leaned in to kiss his Mickey. His fingers quickly braided themselves into Mickey’s hair as he brought their faces closer together. God he loved Mickey.

“You want your presents now?” He whispered against his lips.

“Mmm sure. Keep those handy though I’ll want some more of that later.” He gestured towards Ian’s mouth.

“You’re very affectionate today Mick.”

“I think it’s the old age. Get me my presents bitch.”

Mickey watched Ian get super giddy just to give him a present. He would’ve thought it was stupid and ridiculous had he not felt the exact same way to give him his party. The box which was wrapped opened up to reveal multiple individually wrapped packages which gave Mickey the feeling that Ian had gotten way too into this. He plucked one out handing it to Mickey to open first.

“Don’t make fun of me alright, this one means a lot to me.”

“Alright, alright calm your vagina.” He smiled tugging at the paper.

It was a picture frame, and thank god there was picture in it or else that probably would’ve been the worst gift ever. It held the shot of them at Ian’s birthday party that Mandy had taken. Ian’s arms were wrapped securely around Mickey who through his slight alcoholic haze was too unable to scowl. He smiled up at Ian like he was the world. And he was, as far as Mickey was concerned.

“Huh . . . I’ve never seen this.” He breathed fingers tracing Ian’s smile.

“It was my favorite picture from my favorite night… Well there’s this picture Mandy must’ve snuck in and taken but we were but ass naked and my hands were still on your ass so I figured this one was the way to go.”

“Thanks.” Mickey mumbled taking Ian by surprise when he quickly reached to kiss him slow and yearning. “I love it.”

“Yea? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The next present was probably supposed to be a gag gift, but it was easily one of the best things he could’ve ever asked for.

“You fucking loser you got me a prostate massager?”

“Hey I’m just looking out for your wellbeing. You’ve been so tense with all this exhibit talk I wanted to get you something to work out the kinks.” Ian grinned as if it would work on his back instead of his fucking asshole.

“Oh my god you’re ridiculous. Are there more sex toys in this box?”

“Mayyyyyybe. Now come on open the rest so I can use it on you already.”

His next gift was a really nice set of colored pencils. Not any of that Crayola shit either; it was like over a hundred dollars with every shade of every color in the fucking universe. Mickey had been drawing more than painting with all the subway rides into the city for his art meetings, so Ian got him a new sketch book and his expensive ass pencils to do it with. The next gift was a drawing from Yev that he’d had to beg Svetlana for. It was a drawing of him and Mickey as ninja turtles, which was just about the cutest damn thing ever. He also got another pair of jeans because Ian never liked the jeans that Mickey wore something about not doing his ass justice. Ian also took it upon himself to buy an assortment of toys to try out that Mickey was sure would be the death of him. Beads and vibrating things that would slide in and drive him crazy, and cock rings which he was definitely willing to try.

“I hope you liked it.” Ian murmured shyly pushing all the wrapping paper onto the floor. “It’s a lot of little things I know but our anniversary is in a few weeks so if you didn’t get what you want I could always try again.”

“I really liked them.” Mickey assured him coming up behind him on their bed.

He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend from behind lips coming up to touch Ian’s neck. Affectionate Mickey was a good Mickey. Ian turned quickly wrestling him to the bed and pulling his legs up to surround Ian’s waist. The smile on his lips was less sexy and more adorable, loveable even. Mickey reached up tentatively stroking his cheek because he loved his boyfriend so goddamn much. And the best part about being twenty-five was that it meant a year with Ian. A year of happiness. A year in a relationship that fucking meant something meant everything.

“Mickey.” He panted wetly against his collarbone. “I really wanna do something. So if you’re gonna freak out you should do it now.”

“What is it?” Though he was positive he already knew and that there was no way in hell he’d turn him down.

“I wanna . . . make love. To you.” He sighed hesitantly. “But I won’t if you don’t want me to. I don’t wanna rush you or anything so if you wanna say no you can and I—”

“Ian.” Mickey cooed taking his face softly in the palm of his hands.

“Y—Yea?”

“Shut up and make love to me okay?”

“Oh. O—Okay. Yea, yea I—I mean I can do that.”

Mickey found himself laughing as he pulled Ian’s lips back to his. Best birthday ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of y'all gettin' all bent out of shape thinking i'm any good at angst you were dead ass wrong. that shit was horrible for me. But i was serious when i said you will see the purpose. It'll all come to light soon. 3 more chapters to go.....


	22. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you’re twenty-five now… What the fuck do you wanna do?” Mandy asked. 
> 
> He looked over at Ian who was standing in their kitchen getting Mickey another beer. He thought it was selfish how reliant he’d become on Gallagher. Even sitting there with Sammy drooling over the floor, bone place firmly in his mouth and Mandy kicking his ass at Mortal Kombat he still needed a fix. He just wanted Ian. Wanted him in every way imaginable and the dawning realization that he was very slowly beginning to accept was that he was always gonna want Ian. Anybody else just seemed disappointing in comparison. 
> 
> “Just wanna spend the next year like this. Happy. Turns out happiness is somehow better than being a brooding asshole.” He shrugged. “Who woulda thought it huh?” 
> 
> She laughed peering at the object of his affections. “I didn’t mean in the grand scheme of things though I do find that adorable. I meant today specifically. Do remember that a lot of people associate happiness with love. And we all know what comes after Love don’t we Mick?”   
> “I’m gonna stab you with my fucking cake fork if you don’t shut the fuck up. It’s my birthday bitch!”

Mandy was on her way to her brother’s apartment with balloons and cake and gag gifts to annoy the shit out of him when she saw them. She took the stairs up to the next floor and she could hear the people in the hallway just as clear as day. It was the guy across the hall, the people next door, and almost three quarters of the whole floor yelling about the couple in 1B who could very clearly be heard fucking each other like the world would end tomorrow. She, and everyone else, was unaware of the beautiful lovemaking taking place, not that it was any of their business, but Mandy jumped to their defense anyway.

“People calm down it’s the poor bastard’s birthday and his boyfriend’s got a huge cock what do you expect?!” She shrugged moving through the crowd to get to the door.

Even though she’d clearly just made an amazing point, that point was weakened a little when they could hear what had to be the headboard slamming into the wall and Mickey crying out into the morning air.

“F—Fuck! Fuck Ian please, that feels so good!”

She figured she should save them some embarrassment before they all discovered that her brother, Mickey “Fuck U-Up” Milkovich, the spawn of Terry Milkovich, liked to be called cum slut or some other freaky shit in bed. It was way too fucking early for her to feel that nauseous. She knocked roughly against the door attempting to get their attention when a chorus of “We’ve already tried that” sounded throughout the wall. Nice fucking going idiots. She shifted her balloons to her other hand pulling out her phone to call fuckhead #1 and fuckhead #2 only to have the fucking phone ring a dozen times and go to voicemail. Luckily the door was unlocked cause let’s face it . . . they’re fuckheads.

Usually Mandy would be able to march straight into their room and just focus on the wall or something, but some inkling told her those two were on some next level fucking and she just didn’t did need that in her life.

“OH LOOK THE DOOR IS UNLOCKED. MANDY MILKOVICH IS WALKING INTO HER BROTHER’S APARTMENT THAT HE SHARES WITH HIS GAY LOVER AND SHE COMES BARING GIFTS AND HOPING THAT NO ONE IS CUMMING IN ANYTHING ELSE!”

“Oh fuck. It’s like fucking clocking work with her.” Mickey muttered from his delightful position of being impaled on Ian’s dick. “No more love making Freckles.”

“But . . . But Mickey!” Ian whined. “That was amazing.”

“You think I don’t know that? We’re definitely doing that again. Tonight. Multiple times in various spots around this apartment. And bring the fucking toys.”

“I SURE HOPE SOMEONE IS HOME AND NOT TALKING ABOUT SEX TOYS WHEN THERE’S AN ANGRY HETEROSEXUAL MOB OUTSIDE THE DOOR THAT CAN HEAR THEM FUCKING ALL MORNING LONG!”

Mickey looked up at the ceiling mentally asking God if this was because he took it up the ass or that one time he tripped an elderly person who cut in front of him in line.

“Look man no one told you to put a man’s g-spot up his fucking ass. Why you gotta do this to me?” He sighed.

Ian giggled softly. “You’re pretty adorable you know that?”

“MAYBE THEY’RE IN THEIR BEDROOM. HMM I’LL GO CHECK!”

They both just turned towards the door, Mickey still sitting on his boyfriend’s dick as Ian sat hunched over fingers still trailing his lover’s body.

“Bitch what in the entire fuck are you yelling for?! We’re right fucking here! You interrupted our fucking like ten minutes ago.” He spat angrily.

“Our love making.” Ian corrected softly.

Mickey quickly covered Ian’s mouth with his hand cause the last thing he needed to discuss with his sister at ten in the morning was that he’d been making love on his goddamn birthday. No one needed that conversation to happen. No one.

“Just keep your dicks covered okay I saw the fucking toys Ian got you and I don’t need to see them in action.” Mandy sighed settling herself in their room way too comfortably. “Your neighbors are getting mighty tired of the free show every hour. I think some of them secretly love it. You know the conservative house wife who fingerbangs herself to the gay couple next door cause she really wants to take it up the ass?”

“Jesus Christ Mandy.” Ian laughed doing interesting things to the way their bodies moved together. “Wait is that why you interrupt us all time? New guy not giving it to you right?”

Mickey quickly socked Ian in the chest hard enough that there would definitely be a bruise there in a couple minutes.

“Hey new rule jackhole no talking about anybody giving it to my sister when your dick is still in my ass! Fuck we need to reestablish the boundaries of this relationship, you two are fucking killing me. And my boner it seems.” He muttered down at the blankets covering his crotch.

“Alright I’ll be in the living room with Sammy eating your fucking cake if you need me.” She smirked.

Mickey just kind of smiled to himself instead of cussing her out like normal. He had his boyfriend and his dog and his sister and some bitchy prude ass neighbors and it was the most amazing life he could’ve asked for.

His new manager sent him fucking flowers for his birthday which went to show just how new their relationship really was. They ate cake and spent the entire afternoon on the couch playing any videogame Mickey wanted with weed and beer and long lingering kisses with his boyfriend whenever the fuck he wanted to. It was a day sorely about Mickey. And that’s all that he wanted. Not some party or anything fancy really. Just a day off surrounded by the only people that he gave a fuck about. To him that was the best way he could’ve spent the day.

“So you’re twenty-five now… What the fuck do you wanna do?” Mandy asked.

He looked over at Ian who was standing in their kitchen getting Mickey another beer. He thought it was selfish how reliant he’d become on Gallagher. Even sitting there with Sammy drooling over the floor, bone place firmly in his mouth and Mandy kicking his ass at Mortal Kombat he still needed a fix. He just wanted Ian. Wanted him in every way imaginable and the dawning realization that he was very slowly beginning to accept was that he was always gonna want Ian. Anybody else just seemed disappointing in comparison.

“Just wanna spend the next year like this. Happy. Turns out happiness is somehow better than being a brooding asshole.” He shrugged. “Who woulda thought it huh?”

She laughed peering at the object of his affections. “I didn’t mean in the grand scheme of things though I do find that adorable. I meant today specifically. Do remember that a lot of people associate happiness with love. And we all know what comes after Love don’t we Mick?”

“I’m gonna stab you with my fucking cake fork if you don’t shut the fuck up. It’s my birthday bitch!”

“Baby you’re not threatening to kill people again are you?” Ian murmured throwing himself back down on the couch and opening Mickey’s beer for him.

“Jesus Ian are you his housewife now?” Mandy asked still pushing buttons.

Mickey seethed at her but Ian just chuckled.

“You know what they say about housewives though. They’re absolute freaks in bed.” He smirked.

“So I and the rest of the fucking building have heard.”

The two of them laughed causing Mickey to roll his eyes. They were both fucking idiots.

“We have dinner reservations at eight by the way. I want you to wear something nice.” Ian insisted kicking at his boyfriend playfully.

“It’s my birthday. Why can’t we just go get wings and beer in our shitty sweats like you know I fucking want to?”

“Because that’s not a celebration. And your birth is definitely something to celebrate so we’re gonna go eat fucking steak with utensils and drink whiskey like we give a shit about how we look. Then I got plans for you when we get home.”

Mickey shut up then attempting to hide his smile with his beer. No one had ever told him his birth was something to celebrate before. Hell since his mom died he hadn’t gotten a present that wasn’t stolen or an illegal substance besides Mandy’s gag gifts every year. Ian Gallagher wanted to celebrate him and take him out to some fancy restaurant and hold hands and make people uncomfortable with their love. Ian Gallagher was tearing his way through Mickey’s heart and he was incapable of stopping him.

“Maybe you should spring for a hotel. I think the neighbors might actually revolt if you fuck here all night.” Mandy joked.

“Oooo that sounds fun. Mick let’s go to a hotel. Like a mini-vacation.”

“You’ve got photography class tomorrow. We have a dog that vomits if he’s alone for more than an hour, and I’ve got an art show to prepare for.”

“But Miiiiiiick,”Ian whined slipping his body onto Mickey’s and knocking them sideways on the couch bumping into Mandy. “it’ll be fun. What’s wrong with fun?”

And that goddamn smile. That smile with the teeth and those soft ass lips and that obnoxious grin of his that was surely the most infuriating and wonderful thing Mickey had ever scene. It was his weakness. What good could come from saying no to such a beautiful little fucker.

“Nothing’s wrong with fun.” He murmured taking Ian’s cheek in his hand. “Remember when I said I was gonna want a little more of those later?”

“You are the birthday boy.”

They kissed slow and languid tongues dipping deeply into each other mouths. And it was fucking sickening.

“Hey I am right fucking here! Are you really just gonna sit here and suck face on top of my body?” Mandy growled.

Mickey just waved her away as Ian’s hands came up to encircle his face holding him close and making their make out session more passionate and heavy.

“You know this makes you the worst brother ever right? Fuck you guys I have a date tonight anyway!” She muttered getting off the couch.

“Bye!” they called before reconnecting their lips and tangling their limbs easily.

Mickey was laughing again as they kissed, the sound light hearted and happy. Ian loved that laugh; he loved it so much that he wanted to hear it forever. Just Mickey happy and content and good. He loved his boyfriend too much because dangerous thoughts were beginning to swarm in his head. Things like houses and picket fences and rings with tiers, a cake so tall Mickey couldn’t reach the top if he tried. He knew it was dangerous but it had become his happy place. Those moments when they would connect and no one had to be scared no one had anything to fear but the idea that they wouldn’t be able to hold each other tight enough. It was the moments when he could pretend that one day Mickey would want him that way. That there was a forever with him.

They lie on the couch like teenagers just laughing and kissing and gripping each other, never moving any farther than that. Ian held Mickey’s face with both hands tugging at his hair or gripping his jaw trying to force his adoration for him into the kiss. Mickey’s hands came up on Ian’s hips where he rested between his legs His fingers trailed up the skin at the small of Ian’s back feeling the heat and how his heart responded. He wanted to say something, to explain how deep he was in it with Ian but it was hard and he didn’t know where to start and he was kind of a mess when it came to Ian so he just blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“We should live together.” He mumbled against Ian’s mouth.

Ian chuckled kissing down Mickey’s throat. “We do live together silly.”

_Yea, but like forever._

“In a different place. A house ya know? Less people interrupting this. You and me.” He mumbled trying to pull their lips back together.

Ian wasn’t having that.

“Excuse me? You said what now?” He gaped pushing their foreheads close together.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You. Me. The dog. Some shitty house that we’ll probably be making payments on for the rest of our lives . . . I mean if you want. I—If you think we’re ready.”

“Yea…..I mean of course. I just—you’re ready for that? That’s a big step Mick.”

“I asked you didn’t I? I’m ready. Come here.” He insisted kissing Ian once again.

“I gotta say I like you at twenty-five already.” Ian chuckled.

“Yea maybe I just know what I want.”

And he did. He knew exactly what he wanted.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Ian’s fucking heart eyes were so annoyingly cute that Mickey kind of wanted to punch him. He settled for holding hands in the middle of restaurant in a button up shirt with their legs tangled together underneath the table. They were staring at each other like nothing else in the world mattered and it had surely been the best birthday of his entire life. They both kept waiting for one of them to freak out, for one of them to lose their minds and everything to fall to pieces but it didn’t. They were just really, really happy together.

“So…Mandy’s got Sammy. The beauty of technology has allowed me to rent us the closest hotel to this very restaurant, and we still have three more hours of the big two-five to celebrate.” Ian murmured holding Mickey’s hands as they waited for their uber.

Mickey bit his lip trying to fight how much he liked it when Ian would intertwine their fingers running his thumb along the tattoos.

“You really taking me to a hotel like I’m some virgin teenaged girl on prom night?”

“You saying you don’t want to go Milkovich?” Ian raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say that Gallagher. You better make it one hell of an experience for tonight though.”

“Why you wanna top tonight?”

Mickey quickly turned around seeing if anyone has noticed that his boyfriend had no fucking filter before socking him in the arm.

“The fuck’s the matter with you?”

Ian shrugged. “That a no?”

“That’s a why you gotta talk about where our dicks are going in public shithead.” He muttered.

But he was looking Ian up and down causing a smirk to form on the redhead’s full lips. He had Mickey wrapped around his little finger and he’d be damned if the night wouldn’t end amazingly with them wrapped up in each other. Ian rented the hotel room sending a cocky grin Mickey’s way when he pulled out his debit card, the little shit, before tugging his man toward their fortress for the night.

Mickey doesn’t know how to ask Ian to make love to him again. He can’t say that all he wants for his birthday is to be loved, to feel touches that affect his heartbeat, and be kissed like nothing in the world matters but him. But there’s this moment when his boyfriend looks him in the eye, both of them naked beneath sheets that are only theirs for the night and it’s like he’s just absorbing Mickey in and reading him leaving him utterly defenseless. He looks deep into Mickey and sees everything, every piece of him that he’s ever struggled to keep hidden. Mickey loves him so much for it too. With Ian it’s simple, because even when it’s hard he’s always fucking there to understand Mickey and make him not feel so hopeless, stupid.

So they don’t use toys that night, they don’t switch up their combo of which dick enters which ass. It’s not candle light and shooting stars, but it doesn’t fucking have to be. This is Mickey’s fantasy, not Ian’s. Ian holds him close, keeping his legs tight around his back as they make love. That’s just what it is. It’s love. It’s warm and it’s slow and it’s lethargic and it just feels so fucking good. They give and they take and hold each other as close as they can through it all melting into one another as night melts to dawn. Mickey can’t help but have his last thought of the night be that every night should be like this night.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Their anniversary and Christmas almost run straight into each other. Ian was dragging Mickey back to the Gallagher house once again which meant he in turn was dragging Mandy right along with them. It left a lot to be done in a little amount of time. Mickey’s art show was one week before Christmas, which meant he spent all of his energy on that. He was nervous as all fuck, and it didn’t help that his new manager was bumping it up to be one of the biggest art shows in like all of time as if he wasn’t some shitty artist from the Southside of Chicago.

 Ian hadn’t met her yet when she came over to meet Mickey for lunch to talk about business things. He was still in his work sweatpants with a tanktop on that showed all the love marks Ian liked to leave when he didn’t want Mickey to get anything done. He’d opened the door to the woman who was dressed in an obviously expensive business suit with bright blonde hair and a bluntness to her that kept you on edge.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Uh yes I’m Lisa Woodrow? I’m looking for Mickey Milkovich? Hey don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Mickey your management lady is here!” Ian called before shrugging his shoulders. “No I don’t think so? Maybe I’ve walked past one of your and Mickey’s skype sessions though.”

He let her in before grabbing his bag as Mickey came out fumbling with the buttons on his shirt trying to make himself look half way presentable.

“What time you coming home tonight?” Mickey asked not acknowledging Lisa yet.

Ian moved Mickey’s hands out the way fixing the buttons quicker. “Around eight? I’m gonna go shoot some stuff before my class and my professor said he might have an actual job for me as an assistant or something. I’ll cook dinner when I get home. No more take out I need you alive past forty. And we’re going shopping for the kids tomorrow so no copping out saying you forgot. I’ve got a witness. Right Lisa?”

Her eyes widened having been spoken to for the first time and she nodded quickly.

“Y—Yes.”

Mickey quickly flipped him off but didn’t disagree. Ian finished his shirt before leaning in to kiss his boyfriend slow and deep, fingers scuffing warmly at the nape of his neck.

“Mkay I’ll text you if I’m gonna be later than that. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Mickey smiled watching him leave.

“It was nice meeting you Lisa!”

“It was nice meet you too….?”

“Ian. Please make him the next Picasso or something so I don’t have to work another day in my life.” He chuckled.

She smiled. “I’ll try.”

Ian left leaving a silence to fall over them as Mickey finished getting ready. He waited for the confidence to fall back over her once Ian was gone. They’d only ever been together in business settings and she was always more comfortable when it was strictly art. Seeing Mickey in domestic city probably wasn’t the greatest start to her day.

“I remember him now. He’s in the piece that you showed me. The one that got you signed right?”

Mickey nodded leaning over to tie his shoes. “That would be him.”

“I didn’t know you were married. Or that you had kids for that matter.”

His chest automatically tightened still not used to the idea of him and Ian being something more permanent. But he noticed then that the tightness faded quicker, that he was able to breathe through it in the end. At least he didn’t lash out and lose his shit that time.

“We’re not married. Just boyfriends…for now. No kids either, he has a lot of family that he has to shop for for the holidays.”

“Ohhhh. Well you make a lovely couple.” She smiled. “Now hurry up. Lots of work to do. I’ve got every art magazine in the city coming to view your work. We’ve got press coming out the wazoo and I expect you to give them something to talk about.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to fucking mingle do I? I do much better with selling my shit under the table and barely having to speak to people.”

“What have I told about creating a persona? You have to be lively and inviting in person Mickey. We want people to have emotions towards your work. You want them to fear something make them fear the art, not you.”

“Yea, yea, yea. Let’s get this shit on the road huh?”

The show was kind of a play on expressionism. It was the main thing that tied all of his pieces together. It was this idea that he could look within himself and find something worthy of plucking out and sharing with the world. He could choose to express how he felt about a topic or a person or a thing with colors and brush strokes and shapes. He could have a painting of Ian in bed and a painting of his father side by side and you knew which one was good and pure because it was all whites and reds and oranges and beautiful bright colors swirling softly to create his naked body whereas the other was dark and murky and harsh. He loved being able to say what he couldn’t say with his hands on a canvas. He thought that maybe when he was made God (or whatever the fuck you wanna call it) knew he would never be a talker so he gave him the ability to make a picture that spoke a thousand words.

Ian went out and spent the day getting Mickey’s measurements exactly right so he could have a suit for his big day. Something about there only being two suits in his entire wardrobe drove Ian absolutely crazy and he intended on fixing that. Christmas was right around the corner and so was their anniversary which meant his stress levels were at an all-time high. They hadn’t fought anymore about what they wanted from the relationship but the underlying issues were still there. He still wanted Mickey forever, a concept that was becoming more pressing by the day, and he was still terrified that Mickey would never be ready to love fully and openly.

He was twenty-four, Mickey twenty-five and he didn’t understand what the fuck they were waiting for. He didn’t see other guys anymore. He didn’t long for someone else to touch him or envision another man when they fucked. It was all Mickey. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it was always gonna be Mickey. So why were they sitting there with their thumbs up their asses pretending like they didn’t wanna spend the rest of their lives together? Oh right his boyfriend was terrified. And fuck was it frustrating. He didn’t know how to shake Mickey of this “I’m not allowed to be happy” shtick, but he wanted to so desperately. After all if it looks like a married couple and it acts like a married couple and it fucks like fucking porn stars how is it not a beautiful, amazing married couple?

He was also a stubborn little fuck who wasn’t going to propose to Mickey. He needed to feel wanted, like Mickey was just as invested as he was. They’d gotten through Ian’s bipolar disorder, had faced the wrath of Terry Milkovich, and confronted his fucking family. They weren’t done of course. Mickey still needed to confront his past. Ian had to learn to trust that Mickey wasn’t leaving for good every time they were in separate rooms. Mickey had to realize that Ian wanting a kid at some point in his life did not mean they needed to go on a fucking road trip to an orphanage in Africa that minute. They also had to come to terms on a house, which was working out terribly by the way.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t find a house. It was that Ian had found exactly the house he wanted, and the world was a cruel fucking place that liked to make shit way too fucking expensive. The problem was that the house was a fucking foreclosure and they still wanted three hundred thousand bare minimum on it. But it had four bedrooms and three bathrooms and it was close enough to the city for Mickey to go do his business thing in the art world and Ian could do his photography. It was absolutely perfect. And he would never in a million years ask Mickey for it. So instead they were left to pretend as if Mickey had said nothing about them living in a fucking house together, only the very thing Ian dreamed about at night, no big deal.

“You nervous?” Ian mumbled the night of the show.

He was fixing Mickey’s tie for him, finding ways to run his fingers soothingly over his boyfriend’s body who looked in deep need of a cigarette.

“Fuck off. Of course I’m not nervous.” He lied leaning into Ian’s touch. “We gotta go I can’t be late and the fucking cabs in this city are horrible.”

“Relax. I got us an uber instead, make it simple. Mandy had a date with her new guy but she’s meeting us there right after. I—I know I wasn’t there last time because I’m a terrible boyfriend who doesn’t deserve you and all but . . . I am here now. Everything’s gonna be fine. Your work is amazing Mickey and it’s gonna speak for itself tonight.”

Mickey looked up at him with wide eyes seeming to let the calming words take root within him. Ian smiled reassuringly kissing Mickey’s forehead and then his lips.

“I’m so proud of you Mickey.” He whispered.

He closed his eyes soaking in the praise and letting it wash over him. Having Ian there was the only thing keeping him whole when his skin felt like it could explode at any minute. It was terrifying and given his history with art shows and Ian disappearing he hadn’t exactly been looking forward to it. But they were here and Ian was supporting him and telling him that he was proud of him. It meant everything to Mickey. No one had ever been proud of him like that before.

“Thank you.” He sighed pressing their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby.”

And he didn’t even hit him for calling him such a sickeningly sweet nickname because he’s too over the moon happy and excited and scared all at the same time. They braved the New York winter temperature before hopping into the safety of the uber and heading towards the biggest night of Mickey’s career. He kept tapping his hands on his lap, legs bouncing with nerves until Ian reached out and took one of his hands in both of his. It worked; Mickey turned to cuddle into his boyfriend—though he would never call it that—willing to focus on anything that could take his thoughts away from the exhibit.

“Why’d you bring your camera? I’m sure you could take pretty good shots with your phone.”

Ian’s face reddened. “Oh uh… Remember when I told you that my professor might have a job for me?”

“Mhm?”

“Well it turns out he shoots for one of the magazines that’s gonna be at your show tonight. Said if I got good enough shots they might do a bigger spread on you.”

“Wow. So you’re like working for me tonight?”

“Or us.” He murmured trying to control his beaming. “The bigger spread the more exposure the more money the happier you are right? This could help us you know . . . start our life. Together.”

Mickey looked over at him which only made him look away. He didn’t wanna talk about it on Mickey’s night but he couldn’t help the way he felt.

“Yea I—I hope so.” Mickey mumbled reaching to put his face in the crook of Ian’s neck.

They arrived at the exhibit in time to see a lot of flashing lights and people with cameras. It wasn’t like a red carpet event once so ever but Lisa had done a great job of getting press to come check out the exhibit. Not to mention there were people there. Like normal people who like art and go to exhibits and shit. That was the weirdest part of it all. The most terrifying thing was this vision of no one showing up, of no one giving a shit because why would they give a shit about what Mickey had to say? And then something even scarier, now they were there, he had their attention, what if he had nothing good to say? But they were there and Ian was beside him and his manager was giving him this grin like they’d done something so special, and he kind of thought that maybe they had.

Ian was bursting with pride the entire night. He quickly got separated from Mickey when his manager towed his off to do interviews, which reminded him he had a job to do that night as well. It was his first time seeing the show itself and man had Mickey outdone himself. Someone had picked a winter wonderland theme with lots of white lights strung everywhere and in the mist of the snowy softness was just these white walls that contained Mickey’s pieces. It gave so much room for the work to be appreciated the way it deserved and every work of art held its own.

He snapped pictures of each piece as he moved slowly, trying to take in everything the way he felt Mickey deserved. It made him even happier to see other people so engrossed. Mandy showed up soon after, clinging to his side and watching all these people who like loved her brother’s stuff. And in the midst of it all was Mickey smiling in his interviews the way he’d been taught and just being happy. The last time around he’d sat in a corner scowling and looking around every two second with pathetic eyes waiting for Ian to show up. Now those eyes were happy and bright and so blue and they looked to make sure Ian was still there every few seconds.

“This is kind of weird if you think about it. I mean Mickey used to steal from people like them but now they’re paying to come see his fucking art. How did that happen?” Mandy asked.

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just cause your brother’s kind of amazing.”

“Yea I don’t think that’s it.”

He shoved at her shoulder playfully causing both of them to laugh.

“I hope you two aren’t over here embarrassing me I’m trying to be all professional and shit and you’re ruining it.” Mickey smirked finally appearing.

“Mmm I was wondering when I’d get my boyfriend back.” Ian smiled quickly making his way into his boyfriend’s arms.

“I have to tell you, you two are probably the most annoying couple of all time.”

Mickey just smiled at Ian. “I don’t know I think we’re pretty fucking awesome. You gotta second I wanna show you something.”

“Sure. Is the thing your dick though cause I don’t think us fucking at your first art show is the best idea.”

“Come on you kinky fuck.” Mickey chuckled shoving softly. Ian allowed himself to be tugged toward another wall that he had yet seen.

And for good reason because he froze the second he saw the piece. It was easily recognizable and of course absolutely beautiful. Mickey had taken the picture of them wrapped up in each other in front of the Eiffel tower and painted it perfectly. It was easily one of his favorite moments of their entire relationship and to have it in paint form meant so much more. It was him and his Mickey and it looked astonishing.

“Mick…” He mumbled still staring at the canvas.

Mickey shrugged. “It’s a uh anniversary present. It took me a long time cause I wanted it to be big enough for you to hang up somewhere. Plus I could only work on it when you weren’t at home so… I don’t know if you don’t like it I could always get you something else.”

Ian rolled his eyes throwing his arms around his boyfriend and kissing him in the middle of his art show. He could practically feel the warmth radiating from Mickey’s cheeks and it had to be one of the things that Ian loved most about him.

“I love it. I love it so much; I don’t need anything else okay?”

Mickey didn’t even try to hide his smile. “Damn Gallagher, I didn’t even have to spend any money.”

“Yea well I figure I put out the day we met, why try and class it up now?” He joked.

“Shut the fuck up and come kiss me stupid.”

In Mickey language that meant that Ian was as classy as they came and Mickey loved him more than anything in the world. Ian definitely agreed and pulled him in for a kiss just to show it. After that Mickey chose to keep Ian closer to him, not minding that Ian made it extremely obvious they were together. The kid was over the moon happy with his present and couldn’t keep his hands to himself to save his life. Most importantly he was there, and he was Mickey’s, and that meant the world to Mickey, so he wasn’t going to push Ian away for nobody. He loved Ian and he needed him to be a part of that night in his career.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more to go. Things are getting super deep y'all. i love this chapter so fucking much and i love the last two so fucking much and i really think it's so detrimental to the arc of Mickey's character. We get to see this little thugmuffin really accepting his feelings for Ian in a way that he just hasn't been able to do completely yet so yea this is cute as fuck i love it. 
> 
> SEND ME PROMPTS!  
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	23. Christmas with The Gallaghers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mickey come taste my frosting.” Ian insisted running into the living room where he was trying to enjoy his beer.
> 
> Mandy raised an eyebrow. “That some gay slang for getting busy in the bathroom?”
> 
> “Actually it stands for meet me in the bathroom and I’ll rim you till you sob.” Ian chuckled plopping down on the couch.
> 
> “Ian! Little ears!” Fiona scolded, gagging.
> 
> “What’s a rim?” Carl asked.
> 
> “NOTHING!” Mickey, Fiona, and Gus yelled in unison.
> 
> Ian shrugged. “Just taste it. Please?”
> 
> Mickey sighed looking a little worn out and tired which put bit of a damper on Ian’s mood. But he didn’t fight him when he lifted a finger of frosting to his lips and didn’t tell him it tasted like shit, so he counted that as a win in the Ian Gallagher baking category.

Mickey woke up to a cup of coffee and every newspaper in all of New York City sitting on his bed. Ian was plopping down next to him with a way too bright smile and some sexy bedhead to match. He groaned sitting up as the brightness poured in through their bedroom window. And leave it to New York to start shitting on everyone with snow a few days before they were due to leave for Chicago. Ian had been going so crazy over everything for his family that they’d agreed to celebrate their anniversary while in Chicago. You would’ve thought the bastard would be more tired than Mickey yet there he sat waking him up at the crack of fucking dawn tweaking like a bitch. An adorable bitch but a bitch nonetheless.

“Can I ask why we’re not fucking asleep right now?” Mickey grumbled.

Ian smiled. “It’s cold and snowing, I’ve got no work and you’ve got no work. I wanna snuggle with my man and my puppy.”

Mickey looked over at Sammy who was taking up the entire bottom half of their bed.

“Puppy my ass that thing is big enough to be one of the wolves from twilight.” He mumbled scooting closer into his boyfriend’s arms.

“You’ve seen twilight?”

He yawned. “Shut the fuck up Ian. Mandy made me watch it. Now what’s with all the newspapers?”

“Oh it’s nothing just amazing positive reviews for this art show I went to the other day talking about the next big thing to take the art world, particularly expressionism, by storm with fuck you up tattoos.”

Mickey snapped up in bed looking over at Ian who gave him that looked like he was proud of him. It always made him feel unworthy, like how could anyone give him a look so full of admiration and love. It was special, it was all Ian and it was way more important than any review. But the reviews were important too so he snatched up one of the papers and began to furiously read, promptly ignoring the picture of himself next to one of his works at the forefront of the article. It was fours and fives out of five stars across the board. People were calling him bold, a force to be reckoned with, the next big thing in the art world. His show had been a huge success, much more than he had ever let himself think it could be. One of the articles said they had actually seen his work once before, and that after the publicity of his first exhibit he could name his price for anything in his catalogue. That meant money, serious money which seeing as how he was trying to get Gallagher a fucking house in one of the most expensive places to live in the country would probably come in handy. Shit.

“See! I told you. I fucking told you, you were amazing but did you listen? Noooooo. ‘It’s no big deal,’ he said. ‘You’re just saying that cause I suck your dick every night’ de said. Look at those fucking headlines you adorable legend you.” Ian beamed with pride.

Sammy gave his own encouraging bark before rolling back over and making himself comfortable. Mickey had never smiled so wide in his entire life and Ian tried to commit that image to memory, because Jesus he was beautiful. Mickey threw down his newspaper struggling to get to Ian fast enough. Morning breath and coffee breath met as they kissed each other way too lovingly for it to be that early. Ian didn’t mind. Ian didn’t mind wrapping himself protectively around his boyfriend. He didn’t mind clasping Mickey’s legs around his back without it leading to sex. He didn’t mind soft kisses and nuzzling their heads together with beaming smiles. He loved and appreciated every second of it, every second that Mickey showed him what he really wanted.

“I’m so proud of you. You’re like a kick ass artist now. You’re gonna be in museums and on the covers of magazines and shit.” He murmured against Mickey’s lips playing idly with his hair.

Mickey giggled, fucking giggled. “You’re so stupid.”

“Who’s gonna take care of who in their old age now? Looks like Mandy might be right. I think I can handle the whole housewife thing. Accept for those old style aprons on top of my clothes, they make me look fat.”

“Oh we can’t have that now can we?”

“’Course not. I’ll just have to go nude under my apron.”

“That’s a great thing for me and the kids to come home to. Your bare ass in the kitchen.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t want kids?”

“With someone that I love to help out . . . doesn’t sound so bad.” He said, reminding them of a similar conversation.

Ian groaned knocking them backwards so that he hovered over Mickey, causing Sammy to jump from the bed with a fright.

“You gotta figure your shit out Milkovich.”

“Hmmm and what shit are you referring to this time Gallagher.”

The dreamy smile on his face told Ian he wasn’t exactly taking things seriously.

“What you want. Don’t change your mind for my fucking benefit alright? If we move into a house I want it to be because you want it not because you’re making sacrifices for me, whether it’s kids or marriage or living together it doesn’t matter. You love me I get it, but don’t change your mind for me, do it for you okay? You deserve to live for you.”

Mickey just stared up into those eyes of his that made him feel all giddy and fluttery inside. And he wanted to say it. He wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter whether he wanted any of those things or not because when he was with Ian he was always gonna want more. Nothing was a burden if he was a part of it. And more than anything he wanted to tell him that he wanted to spend forever with him, but that thought alone was more terrifying than anything they’d been through together so he decided to bite his tongue.

“Alright message received. You gonna cook me breakfast in bed or you gonna talk to me some more about what I don’t want?” He smirked fingers trailing Ian’s waist.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Ian muttered.

Mickey watched him slide out of bed in nothing but those tiny little underwear squeezing in on those thighs Mickey was so fond of with Sammy quick by his side. Jesus he was ruined.

Ian was in the kitchen working on pancakes and his weird ass health smoothies when Mickey came bustling in pulling on jeans and a t-shirt instantly spoiling his plans.

“Hey no clothes and go get back into bed! You’re ruining my snuggle time dammit.” He whined.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go talk to my sister about her plane ticket before she leaves for work. I’ll be back before you’ve drunken that nasty ass smoothie of yours.”

“Ugh fine. But I’m starting the movie marathon without you if you’re not back in time.”

“I’ll make it. Love you alright?” He mumbled reaching up to kiss his boyfriend.

“Mmm love you too. Hurry up.”

He was met with a whack to the ass on his way out the door and he wasn’t even capable of being upset anymore. Gallagher had turned him soft. He’d gotten into his head and into his veins, and worst of all into his heart. What was the use in denying it anymore? Ian had been right; Mickey had been absolutely terrified of anything that could possibly make him happy. He’d been running his entire life from one thing or another and finally the ex-thug was getting winded. He’d found something, a good something that liked to cook him breakfast in the morning and spend all day under warm blankets. Someone that was proud of him for everything he did, supported him and all that shit that he didn’t know could feel so good. Things were getting out of hand.

“Yo answer the fucking door!” Mickey grumbled pounding roughly on Mandy’s door.

“Here’s the thing bitch it’s eight o’clock in the fucking morning and I am absolutely sick and tired of you waking me up!”

She glared at him in her tiny t-shirt with no bra and no fucking pants on and there was no one else in the world he could see himself talking to about the current situation.

“Alright that’s nice and everything but I think I wanna propose to my boyfriend so I need to eat your food cause I am stressed the entire fuck out!”

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Snow sucked. If Ian had thought that escaping the bitter frozen hell of Chicago would lead to something better, he’d moved to the wrong fucking state. It also didn’t help that in order to fly back to his cold ass hometown he had to go outside first. He’d organized everything to a tee. The presents for everyone in his family, the kennel that would unfortunately have to hold his baby boy until they got back, and getting two Milkovichs to a flight on time. It was a Christmas miracle if you asked him. Not to mention Ian was into the holidays. Really into the holidays.

“MICKEYYYYYYY I WANT YOUR ASS OUT HERE IN THAT SWEATER IN THE NEXT TWO MINUTES OR SO HELP ME!”

“CALM YOUR FUCKING PUBES BITCH I’M COMING!”

“CUMMING IS THE LAST THING YOU’LL BE DOING IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT!”

Mandy found that especially hilarious. No one had ever been able to go toe to toe with her brother before, and something about Ian Gallagher doing it made it especially funny, and adorable. A few seconds later Mickey was stumbling out of the bathroom in a Christmas sweater that matched Ian’s perfectly. An early Christmas/anniversary gift from Mandy nonetheless. But dammit if his boyfriend walking out super-duper grumpy in a matching Christmas sweater wasn’t the best thing ever, Ian didn’t know what was.

“You’re so goddamn cute it’s ridiculous.” He grinned slapping an Elf hat on his boyfriend’s head.

Mickey’s eyebrows quickly met his hairline. “Like hell I’m wearing this thing on the plane.”

“Me and Mandy are. We won’t match if you don’t. Now let’s go before we miss our flight. If you’re nice about it maybe I’ll get you something from Starbucks before we board.”

Mickey let him tug him forward by his hand because saying no to Starbucks wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

The traffic was terrible, the weather even worse, and they were lucky to make it without a delay on their flight. Mickey still didn’t do too well with flying though, and with his sister along for the ride there wouldn’t even be time for his boyfriend to fuck the fear out of him. But he was so caught up in nerves and anxiety he didn’t think anything could remove the stick from his ass. This whole thing was crazy… This was stupid. Insane. Terrifying. _Shit._

“What are you drawing?” Ian asked leaning his chin against Mickey’s shoulder.

Mickey bit his lip in concentration. “You . . . calms me down.”

“Can I see when you’re done?”

He nodded hesitantly. “If I finish.”

So they both put on their head phones, Mandy already passed out from the sleeping pills she took before the flight, and just tried to relax. They might not have known it, but the Milkovichs had been officially adopted into the Gallagher family and Ian was over the moon about it. He loved the fact that he could go home for the holidays, and more importantly that he had someone to go home with. It felt like everything that had changed within the year was because of Mickey, because he found someone willing to go through the fucking ringer with him. It hadn’t been easy, fuck it still wasn’t, but Ian wasn’t interested in easy. He was interested in grumpy assholes with fat asses that always let their mouths run and could draw masterpieces with fucking colored pencils. He liked ridiculously amazingly shaped eyebrows that carried every emotion within their hairy depths. He liked that he found a family in Mandy and Mickey, whether they saw it that way or not. And really he liked that loving Mickey could make him feel so good, and he liked having the ability to make him feel something close to that as well.

They landed in Chicago by the time Mickey finished his drawing and it was actually kind of astounding. Ian could swear the man had managed to draw individual hairs, and he was getting closer to Ian’s eye color every time he drew them. It was amazing the things he could do. Mickey had his winter coat on and his sweater and his fucking Elf hat and he was the cutest little shit Ian had ever laid eyes on.

“My own little grumpy elf. Santa really delivered this year.” He chuckled as they made their way to the Gallagher house.

“I expect enough booze to make me forget I’m dressed like this within three minutes of being in this house. I wanna kick my own ass in this get-up.” He fretted swiping his thumb along his thumb.

Ian caught that though.

“What was that?” He asked knocking on the door.

“What was what?”  Mickey’s eyebrow rose.

“That thing you do with your thumb and your lip when you’re nervous. What’s there to be nervous about?”

Mickey and Mandy’s eyes locked just as the door opened and Debbie was there losing her fucking mind and launching herself at Ian through the door.

“GUYS IAN, MICKEY, AND MANDY ARE HERE!” She screeched.

They were barely able to push their way inside before the wolves descended attacking them with wet kisses and surprisingly tight hugs. Fiona had insisted that Mandy come back, and Mickey was always invited regardless. Lip was there still awkward as hell around the Milkovichs but trying not be an asshole which was new. It was weird for them to be encircled by the family like they were a part of it which only had Mickey freaking out even more.

“Nice outfit.” Lip mentioned handing him a beer.

Mickey’s middle finger made another surprising appearance. “Fuck all the way off. Your brother’s like some Christmas junkie. Pretty sure he snorted some gingerbread crumbs before we got on the plane.”

He chuckled. “Not bad Milkovich. You bring me a present?”

“Oh shit I actually did, thank you for reminding me.” Mickey gasped setting his beer down.

Lip’s eyebrows raised suspiciously, and for good reason, because Mickey quickly rutted his knee into his crotch making Lip fall to the ground crying out in pain.

“Goddammit Mickey!” Ian groaned from the living room. “Two minutes, we were here two whole fucking minutes!”

“That’s for my sister. And interrupting me getting drunk on thanksgiving ya prick. Now we’re even k cupcake?”

He smiled patting Lip on the head before turning to deal with his boyfriend. Let the festivities begin.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

The room situation was a little troublesome. Mickey and Ian got Frank’s room by default because they were the only couple besides Fiona and Gus. Mandy was sharing a room with Debbie, leaving Lip, Carl, and Liam in their old room. Ian was in the most festive mood, baking up a storm with Debbie in the kitchen. Apparently if he couldn’t follow the usual Gallagher tradition of getting blackout drunk because of his meds, then he was gonna find some other tradition to have fun with. Annoying the fuck out of Mickey seemed to be another one of these traditions.

“Mickey come taste my frosting.” Ian insisted running into the living room where he was trying to enjoy his beer.

Mandy raised an eyebrow. “That some gay slang for getting busy in the bathroom?”

“Actually it stands for meet me in the bathroom and I’ll rim you till you sob.” Ian chuckled plopping down on the couch.

“Ian! Little ears!” Fiona scolded, gagging.

“What’s a rim?” Carl asked.

“NOTHING!” Mickey, Fiona, and Gus yelled in unison.

Ian shrugged. “Just taste it. Please?”

Mickey sighed looking a little worn out and tired which put bit of a damper on Ian’s mood. But he didn’t fight him when he lifted a finger of frosting to his lips and didn’t tell him it tasted like shit, so he counted that as a win in the Ian Gallagher baking category.

“You okay?” He asked noticing how on edge Mickey was.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “What? Yea I—I’m fine. Fine. Fine. You know I’m just . . . fine. Really.”

“Okayyyyy. Uh I’ll finish up with Debs in the kitchen and maybe we’ll go to bed early. Rest up for tomorrow?”

“Uh huh.”

Mandy watched on as her best friend gave her brother a final worrying glance before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Very subtle. You totally aren’t acting like a complete and total freak or anything.” She noted.

His eyes darkened immediately. “Shut the fuck up alright?”

“Why don’t you just go ask him and get it over with?”

“Because it’s not the right time yet, now get the fuck off my back woman.”

Sibling bonding time for the Milkovichs. Always a pleasure.

Ian noticed how distant Mickey was the rest of the night. He was pulling away, not talking to anyone, or even really paying much attention to the conversations at all. They headed upstairs with everyone else to go to sleep before opening presents around the first tree Ian had ever seen in the Gallagher house with more green visible than brown. Mickey was ready to go to bed, needing the sleep more than ever, and leave it to Ian to fuck that up with his penis.

“Jesus man could you put that thing away just for one night?” Mickey mumbled.

Ian, whose arms had been perfectly wrapped around his boyfriend hips to ass, froze instantly.

“Is Mickey Milkovich actually refusing sex right now?” He asked plopping down on his side of the bed.

“Look your family is literally surrounding us all sides and I’ve gotten used to my noise, the chances of me keeping it down are slim to none okay?”

“Uh huh? And this has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been weird as all fuck since we got here right?”

“Right, now lay down cause I have a feeling your ass is gonna be the one waking me up at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow.”

Ian sighed at the absolute boner killing information before collapsing on the bed like a starfish. Mickey was slowly driving him crazy. His mind kept flickering through all the different ways that this could end badly. There were different scenarios, various circumstances in which Mickey could leave him. It kind of made his heart feel like it would leap from his chest with every passing breath. He could feel it, the wave that his meds was keeping at bay. He was suddenly very thankful for mood stabilizers and anti-depressants. He was also a little worried that maybe Mickey was pulling away again.

He snuggled closer to his Mickey arms tightening around the body beside him.

“Please don’t pull away from me okay? I love you.” He mumbled into Mickey’s back.

And damn Gallagher for always assuming the worst when the absolutely opposite was happening. But he reached down and grabbed at Ian’s hands intertwining their fingers clumsily. Stupid redhead with his stupid adorable smile and his stupid warm body that Mickey just wanted to cuddle the fuck out of.

“No one’s pulling away shithead. I love you too. Go to bed.” He sighed affectionately.

They fell asleep curled in on each other as snow continued to build up outside and the nerves continued to build up inside Mickey’s heart.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

Mickey’s eyes snapped open with a groan because it really felt like he’d only slept for a few minutes as noises ruptured within the Gallagher house at shocking decibels. He could hear the sounds of Ian carrying kids downstairs on his back screaming for the older people to wake the hell up. And for a second he almost forgot about what he was supposed to do that day, but then he was back upstairs jumping on the bed with astounding precision to irritate the living hell out of him. And just like that it was back. The blood curdling nerves pulsing through him when he thought about what he wanted to do . . . what he wanted to _ask_.        

“Come on Mick if you’re good maybe I’ll take you to a bar at the end of all this.” He pouted.

Mickey smirked. “You trying to liquor me up Gallagher? That’s the first good news I’ve heard since we landed.”

“Very funny. Let’s go.”

“Alright, alright I’m coming I’ll meet you down there.”

He watched at Ian rolled his eyes leaping from their bed and headed excitingly down the stairs. With a deep breath he stood up and pulled on his sweatpants reaching hesitantly into his suitcase for the very reason for all these impending anxieties. Ian would be the death of him, he was absolutely sure of it.

Mickey made his way slowly down the stairs his hand palming at what felt like a very heavy weight in his pocket. There at the heart of the living room was this big ass family so loud and annoying and ridiculous. But Mandy was holding Liam on her lap and talking to Debbie excitingly. And Lip was hugging Ian while Fiona sat snuggled up with her husband. And he didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate a single person in the room. Not even Lip, though the distain was still there. Everyone was a part of Ian, and anything that represented a piece of Ian, made Mickey like it. So he realized that if that’s where he ended up for the next thirty, forty years of his life than so be it. Cause if he had Ian, anything was endurable.

“Mick come on everyone’s already started!”

He took his spot next to Ian who quickly kissed him enthusiastically like they were sitting at home in their living room instead of directly in front of his family. His pocket had never felt so heavy. To make matters worse, all the kids got to open their gifts first because they’re kids and that’s what Christmas is really for though Debbie was almost Mickey’s height at that point. And of course the adorable fucker beside him was just happy to watch his siblings open his stuff. He’d missed his family more than he was ever willing to admit which was why Mickey tried to keep the bitching to a minimum when he talked about heading to Fiona’s again.

Ian got Mandy some designer dress that he lifted off one of his photo shoots. It was worth like five grand so of course she lost her fucking mind. He also got her a new stun gun because her old one had unfortunately stopped working after a run in with a creep at her job. Besides this one had like nine million volts of electricity and a flashlight, plus it was pretty so what more could she have asked for Christmas? Mickey got Mandy a necklace. Well really just bought the chain, but he’d taken one of their mother’s old pearl rings that she used to hide from Terry in Mickey’s room and got it cleaned. He figured she’d get married eventually and could maybe trade it out or something, but he’d gotten one of those special hugs where she hid her face in his neck to pretend they weren’t as close as they really were so it was worth it.

He watched everyone passing gifts back and forth, the entire time his hand tightening around what he held in his pocket. Mickey being Mickey meant there was no speech prepared, he didn’t really wanna get on one knee cause that seemed gay as fuck, and he was taking deep breaths to ensure that he didn’t cry in front of the Gallaghers like a little bitch. He’d just reached his hand into his pocket to pull out the box when Fiona interrupted the entire house with a yelp.

“It’s a ring, it’s a ring!” She cried.

“Oh fuck my life.” He mumbled turning to stare.

Gus was all smiles the fucking prick.

“I figured that since we used rubber bands for the ceremony you might finally want something a little more . . . not rubber.” He shrugged.

Mandy looked over at her brother sympathetically because actually how in the fuck could that have happened to anyone but him. Someone up in the big place had a fucking vendetta against him he was sure of it. Ian and all of his siblings turned to congratulate their big sister for finally being happy and getting her shit together when it came to men. They’d been married for a few years, but money had of course been tight at first. Now that things were stable Gus had just wanted to do something nice for his wife. Not his fault that that nice thing meant fucking everything up for Mickey.

He could’ve sworn he saw Ian looking longingly at the way they embraced which only made everything all the more irritating because the jackass had just been about to have that. It was incredibly infuriating. He had to eat this huge feast with everyone just knowing what was supposed to be, what he’d worked so goddamn hard to figure out. It’s like the universe was trying to tell him something. Like it wouldn’t work or that he was being fucking stupid. It really fucking sucked cause all he wanted was to give himself to Ian, to give him the best love he could possibly know.

“Hey the kids are gonna watching movies and eat all the shit we baked while the adults go get drunk. You up for it?” Ian asked later that day. “First round’s on me.”

Mickey simply nodded. “Sounds good. You take your meds?”

“Yep. Even took them early enough that I should be able to have more than one beer too.” He grinned.

When Mickey didn’t show a bit of enthusiasm, or any other emotion for that matter, Ian tied for the umpteenth time to check on him.

“You sure you’re okay?”

He nodded again quickly. “Don’t worry about it I’m fine.”

He reached up on the tips of his toes to give Ian a chaste kid but somehow it didn’t make Ian feel any better.

All the adults braved the cold to get to the alibi reuniting the Gallaghers—and respective Milkovichs—with the Balls. The crowd was surprising for Christmas day but anyone on the South side didn’t need much of an excuse to get drunk and Christmas seemed just as a good as any. Ian was way too over the moon to sit in a shitty bar with all of his family. He made sure to get the top shelf stuff, although top shelf at the Alibi was just their regular shit on a higher shelf, sitting down to loosen his obviously uptight boyfriend up.

“Hey son, share a shot with your ole’ man!” Frank cheered appearing suddenly out of the pits of hell smelling like vomit and pesticide.

Ian snorted. “Jesus you just come out of nowhere like fucking herpes. Why would I share my alcohol with you just so you can fag bash some more? Fuck off Frank.”

“Listen hear you ungrateful little—”

Mickey was out of his seat before Frank’s lips could even form the letter “s” dragging him by the back of his coat to the door. He swung his foot hard kicking Frank out on his ass, literally. The bar erupted in cheers and applause automatically because anyone who could get rid of Frank was downright holy on the Southside.

“My hero.” Ian smiled kissing the corner of Mickey’s mouth.

Mickey’s cheeks quickly reddened causing him to look away from his boyfriend and finally take advantage of the booze.

Meanwhile Frank was stumbling down the street looking for an angry fix. The snow fell limply to the ground as he muttered to himself about how the gays were surely ruining the town. Frank never needed much of a reason to do terrible things and fuck people over. He was Frank; it was like second nature. So when he stumbled onto a horribly cluttered yard in search of a drink, he didn’t even think about what his actions could mean and quite frankly he didn’t care.

“What the fuck do you want?” Iggy asked from inside the house.

Frank snorted. “Respect your elders son. Where’s your dad at?”

He simply left the door opened too lazy to figure out what the hell Frank Gallagher could possibly want with a Milkovich.

“Terry! My friend!” Frank cheered collapsing on the couch like he wasn’t in stranger’s home. “Let’s share a drink huh?”

“And why in the fuck would I want to do that Frank? Why are you on my couch?”

“I just wanted to wish you a happy holidays since we have so much in common you know?”

Terry simply raised an eyebrow. “And what could we possibly have in common?”

“Oh you have no idea.”

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Mickey was watching the love of his life do the single ladies dances with Mandy and Veronica and he couldn’t even find it within himself to be embarrassed of the poor bastard. He kept laughing and clapping clearly buzzing happily off the booze. There still hadn’t been a proper time to pull him aside and ask him this nagging question that he couldn’t stop repeating in several million ways in his head. He highly doubted Gallagher wanted to get engaged in the middle of a bar in their home town anyway. Stupid fucking Gus.

“Mickey!” Ian cackled barely managing to land on the stool next to him. “Isn’t this the best Christmas ever?”

Mickey grinned whole heartedly at this adorable idiot beside him. “You being drunk right now is making my plans even more difficult.”

“I’m not drunk you’re drunk. Drunk.” He said before belching.

“Yea okay tough guy.” Mickey chuckled.

“I love you Mick.”

“Jesus you’re a sappy fucker when you drink.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled leaning in to kiss Mickey.

And he should’ve been afraid because it was Southside and they were no longer under the protection of the Gallagher home. Not everyone was okay with two guys fucking and every part of Mickey’s body had been trained to blend in, to revolt from anything that could show his true colors. But Ian was warm and soft and so easy to get wrapped up in. He’d gone easy, had lost that hard exterior built up to protect him from anything that could possibly hurt. When he was with Ian though he never felt like he was in danger; he always felt safe and loved. It was the life that he’d built for himself that they’d built together. And in a matter of seconds all of that was shattered.

“Where is that piece of shit I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em!”

It cut through the peaceful, calm atmosphere and rocked Mickey to his very core. His lips froze against Ian’s every fear, every sob and tear and angry brush stroke on a canvas that he’d struggled so fiercely to put behind him, suddenly became very real. There used to be a time where he would’ve frozen, curled in on himself and just hoped it would all go away, but now he had something to stand for. Someone worth standing for.

“Ian I need you to take your family and go home okay?”

Ian blinked barely able to see through the fog of his drunken state. “Huh? N—No thanks.”

“No hey looked at me,” He hurried. “You gotta snap out of it. I need you to get out of here so that he can’t hurt you.”

Mickey finally peaked over where all of his dreadful suspicions were confirmed. Terry stood fuming, his skin seeming to vibrate with rage. He saw them. He knew. And there was no getting away. Reasoning with Terry would be useless.

“Dad wait a second alright? Just wait!” Mickey pleaded stumbling off his stool.

And even in Ian’s state things clicked almost instantly. The only person Mickey was really, truly afraid of. Someone Mickey would want to protect him from. **_Terry._** Fucking Terry.

Everything sped up after that. One second he was at the door and the next he was on Mickey slamming his head into the bar hard enough to make him groan out in pain. Mickey grabbed the bottle of whiskey Ian had bought him and smashed it into terry’s skull. Then it was vicious. Mickey was dangerous, but Terry was absolutely brutal. He hit at Mickey like he was evil, like he was an enemy that had to be defeated instead of his own son.

The profanity was spilling out of his mouth and Mickey’s blood was dripping from his knuckles. He was gonna kill him, Ian knew it. And he couldn’t let that happened. He snatched forward grabbing Terry by the collar and shoving him into one of the tables. There was screaming from all around, but all he saw was Terry, all he saw was someone trying to hurt _his_ Mickey.

Mickey saw Ian get into the fight and it only made everything that much more potent. The steaks rose exponentially. He started yelling trying desperately to keep the attention on him and off of Ian when he became aware that Terry had brought friends. His older brothers to be more specific. There was blood and glass and the rough scrape of bone on bone. Being an artist left little time for fighting and maybe Mickey had missed it a little bit. He couldn’t feel the pain, adrenaline pumping through his body way better than any drug on the market as he struggled to keep Ian safe because that’s really what it was all about now. Keep Ian safe no matter what.

Terry had his sons hold Ian down leaving him to Mickey his hands turning his youngest son’s face into a pulp.

“You bring your fucking face back here with your faggot ass boyfriend like it’s okay?! I’ll fucking kill ya!”

Mickey only coughed through the blood a sadistic tone to his voice cracking near the edge of hysterics.

“Fuck you! My faggot ass boyfriend hits it just right at night bitch!”

That only fueled Terry’s anger each of them hitting at each other as hard as they could. They each refused to drop. Even when people began to intervene they still swung with a blind fury. It wasn’t just fighting. It wasn’t just some piece of shit dad who couldn’t see how amazing his son was. It was Mickey finally coming face to face with his abuser, finally showing him that it was okay for him to be happy no matter what the fuck Terry had to say about it. He hadn’t won.

“Get the fuck out of Southside you fucking disgrace! You’re nothing you hear me?! NOTHING!” Terry spat blood flying everywhere as he was finally pulled away in handcuffs.

“Don’t worry about it! Guess what I did daddy?! I bought myself a nice fucking house for me AND my boyfriend. I don’t need your broke ass for shit! I’m gonna be fine, I’m gonna be fucking happy! I’m gonna take his dick every single fucking day if I want to and ain’t shit you can do about it you nazi bitch!”

Terry and Mickey were still scratching for each other as the police dragged them to two different cop cars. Ian was there instantly yelling and Mickey finally noticed that the whole keep Gallagher safe plan had gone horribly awry. He was bloody all over his face, and knuckles, hair matted with the same sticky, red syrup and he found himself involuntarily pulling at his restraints, the need to make sure he was okay too strong to ignore.

“What in the fuck are you doing let him out of there! He didn’t do anything wrong that psychopath attacked him. He was just defending himself let him go!”

And all of a sudden it was all these fucking Gallaghers running out of the bar to defend some piece of shit Milkovich and he felt like they were protecting Mickey’s honor like they fucking owed him or some shit. He had never felt like such a part of a family before. And he hoped that Terry saw it, hoped he could see what love fucking looked like. They let him out of the car, taking their time with the cuffs to make sure he’d calmed down, and then it was just Ian and Mickey colliding together neither of them sure who had run to who.

“Jesus, fuck are you okay?!” Ian gasped.

“No! I think I broke a fucking tooth.”

“Yea my ribs don’t feel so good. Come let me look at you.”

He towed him down to the curb as the police began to collect statements looking over every inch of his boyfriend’s body.

“You look like shit Mick.”

“At least you got to meet my ol’ man huh?” He grinned.

Ian shook his head. “Yea he sure his something.”

“Which is why I told you to get the fuck away from him not fucking ram him with your wannabe army bullshit Rambo.” Mickey sighed frustratingly shoving weakly at Ian.

They both groaned in pain slumping pathetically against each other.

“Couldn’t let him hurt my Mickey. I do appreciate all the beautiful declarations of you loving my dick though I think Lip is off somewhere drinking bleach.”

Mickey smiled. “No one gets to call me a bitch for taking that gigantic thing every night. If anything I deserve a metal.”

“Maybe next year if you ask Santa really nicely. Champion of the dick, has a nice ring to it.”

They both laughed which only led both of them to wince blood and bones and muscles not mixing too well with their humor. Mickey peered over at Ian and realized how fucking brave he was. It’d taken Mickey twenty-five years to stand up to Terry and Ian all of three seconds, and he’d done it for him. He’d protected him. Not very well but that was besides the fucking point. He loved him. He loved him so goddamn much it was astonishing to think about. But the longer he stared the more confused he became. What the fuck was he doing sitting there without staking his claim. Gallagher was his and no one else’s. Better late than fucking never.

“Yo firecrotch…. You wanna get hitched?”  He asked sincerely.

Ian’s eyes widened to the size of glaciers and Mickey wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.  He couldn’t imagine a world where Gallagher would say no but…

“Oh Mick,” He groaned. “Why do you only want to make huge life decisions for us after traumatic events? Can’t you just want me on a normal day, is that too much to ask?”

Mickey just smirked and raised an eyebrow at his dubiously stupid boyfriend as he reached slowly into his pocket and produced a box flipping it open.

“Today was supposed to be a normal day. Then your fucking sister went and ruined everything with her stupid ass ring and I couldn’t . . . It’s not some fancy diamond or whatever and I ain’t getting down on one knee or nothing. Mostly because I think may have broken my kneecap on Iggy’s ribs. But really, I don’t need shit to tell me you’re it. Cause you are. So just…. Come on marry me. I want you to marry me Ian.”

And they’re sitting there on the side of the room covered in dried up blood, the red and blue lights of the cop cars bathing their skin as chaos ensues around them. But nothing really matters but each other. Ian stares at this man, this adorable and strong and wonderful man that was just supposed to be another job and he knows that he never wants to go a day without him. He’s it. And he’s everything. And Ian’s never wanted anything the way he wants Mickey Milkovich.

“Yea I’ll marry you, you son-of-a-bitch.”

And he jumped forward throwing himself into Mickey’s arms until they were flat against the cold, wet concrete kissing each other so forcefully neither of them remembers the pain. Somewhere off in the distance Ian’s family is completely losing their shit, but they don’t care. It’s just them, and that’s how they want it to be forever.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before the epilogue and i have to say this is my favorite I've written yet. I didn't know how i wanted to end but this just felt right, this felt like what they deserved. It's been so fun to write this story, especially it being my first for the Gallavich fandom so i appreciate you all so much for reading and commenting and just enjoying the story. That means the world to me you guys really and i look forward to writing more for you guys in the future(SO MANY IDEAS SO LITTLE TIME IN THE DAY)
> 
> send me prompts tho zankivich.tumblr.com


	24. The First Year: The Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it’d been a year. Maybe it’d been two altogether. They’d run back and forth and went through enough shit to make any normal person tired. But both of them were wide awake. They loved and they loved hard, neither of them waiting for the other shoe to drop anymore. It was just life happening a day at a time, but something about being together made it feel like so much more than that. No more demons. No more running. Just an artist and a model, who liked to take pictures, loving each other through everything that the world could throw at them. And damn if they weren’t up for the challenge.

“Miiiiiiick where are you taking me?” Mickey’s dumbass fiancé whined for the ten millionth time.

Ian was blindfolded and Mickey was trying to lead his big ginger ass towards his surprise and the kid was fucking ruining it.

“Shut the fuck up Ian we’re almost there.”

He moved Ian into place biting his lip with a grin as he reached up to take the blindfold off.

“Now what are we—Holy shit Mickey.”

They were standing in front of the house. The house that Ian had picked out but never really considered all those months ago. And there it was. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a beautiful kitchen for Ian to cook in, and two rooms that could be built into an art studio and a photography room. He’d never even showed it to Mickey; had never dreamed that it could even be a reality.

“How did you?”

Mickey shrugged. “You gotta stop telling my sister shit, she can’t keep her mouth shut for more than five seconds.”

“B—But Mick it, it’s too much. How did you, I mean we can’t possibly…”

Mickey reached up on the tips of his toes to silence his soon to be husband with a kiss. He was a chatty fucker that Ian Gallagher.

“Actually we can. Your dickhead of a brother agreed to look over our finances, and with our incomes together we’ll have the mortgage paid off in ten years max. We can and we will now stop your stuttering and let’s go pack.”

It took him a second to take it all in. Because Mickey was his fiancé and Mickey had done something so incredibly amazing and ridiculously sweet for him that he had no idea how to handle it. He couldn’t deal with how good things were going for them, how things had evolved over time. So instead of trying to wrap his mind around all of that spectacular shit he decided to wrap himself up in some Mickey.

“You keep saying you’re not romantic but I see right through you Milkovich. This is the sweetest fucking thing ever.” Ian gasped lifting Mickey off the ground. “My little thugmuffin!”

“GODDAMMIT GALLAGHER STOP MANDHANDLING ME!”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Ian: _You’re actually here right? I swear if you run away I’m gonna kick your ass_

Mickey: _It’s bad luck to text the groom before the wedding asswipe. Go away._

Ian: _And you’re sure you wanna go through with this?_

Mickey: _More than anything_

“Yep those are actual butterflies in my stomach. I’m dying. It’s too much.”

“You getting cold feet?” Lip snorted.

Ian looked up from his phone and cut his brother with a glare.

“No idiot. I’m just incredibly in love with my soon to be husband.”

“Ick.”

“I’m gonna marry Mickey Milkovich.” He murmured incredulously to himself as he fixed his dark green tux. “Alright let’s go. He’s waiting for me.”

“You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

“You better not cry on me Freckles.”

Ian sniffled eyes brimmed with red. “You’re wearing a tux Mick.”

“You really thought I’d show up in jeans? Navy blue too, it’s designer, really brings out my eyes.”

“Shit it really does.” He swallowed tears thickening.

“Listen you little fucker stop crying. Mandy’s out there somewhere with a camera and I refuse to have physical evidence of me crying because of you so stop.”

“Ehem.” The priest cleared his throat at the curse words.

Their family snickered having heard the two exchange cuss words as they held hands.

“Sorry, sorry continue.”

It was useless by the time they were ready to exchange vows, both of them dissolving into blubbering messes like a couple of babies and completely ignoring everything around them.

“I warned you, I’m about to get sappy.” Ian smiled through the water clogging his eyes.

Mickey squeezed his hands reassuringly. “Get on with it then.”

“Mick you’ve taught me more in a year than I learned in three of college. You taught me how to math, how terrible I am at drawing, and how good my body looks in paint form. You taught me how to love someone, and more importantly how to love myself and trust myself. You taught me that everyone’s a little crazy and that who I am is more than enough and I’m so damn grateful for you for doing that. I vow to always protect you even though you’re an adorable thug muffin and you don’t need it. I vow to . . . always be there when you need me and especially when you don’t. I vow to love you the way that you deserve for the rest of our lives. And I vow to never run away from this. From now until forever alright?”

Whether it was because Ian was trembling through tears with every word him damn self or because Mickey had just gotten as soft as fucking pudding no one knew. But they all watched on as Mickey recited his vows, eyes stinging with happy tears the entire time. It was kind of beautiful.

“Firecrotch you changed my entire life. You gave me someone to sleep next to at night, someone to complain to at three in the morning, someone to make me dinner so that I don’t hurt myself or burn down the house. And I guess I love you for that because I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. Sure you gave me an obnoxious dog that I love, a family to spend the holidays with, a home wherever your arms are open, but uh . . . most importantly you gave me love. And no one has ever really given me that before not like this, not like you. You’ve made me feel like I was worth something. Like I was worthy of this and for that I’m forever indebted to your tall ass and all that shit.” They both paused to laugh though they were definitely still crying. “I vow to always love you despite the fact that you just called me a thugmuffin in front of our families. I vow to be faithful, to support you through all the bullshit this life has to offer, to take care of you as you’ll take care of me. You’re it for me Ian, you’re stuck with me. Hope I don’t disappoint.”

Rings were exchanged and then Ian was on that man like no tomorrow. They had done it, had given themselves to each other so fully and so beautifully that it resulted in a marriage. And if he wasn’t allowed to grab his new husband’s navy blue clad ass in front of everyone they knew and loved what the fuck was the point? Mickey may have gotten a little carried away as well and hair might’ve been tugged and lips might have been bitten. But damn was it the best day of their entire lives, the beginning of a majestic forever.

“Do you think they’ll ever come up for air?” Fiona asked at the wedding reception later that night.

The Gallaghers and the Balls, plus Mandy and Svetlana were staring at the two supposed to be having their first dance. Instead Ian’s hands were roughly squeezing Mickey’s ass, Mickey’s arms wrapped tight around Ian’s shoulders as they kissed profusely. It’d taken forever to get them to pull apart at the wedding, now It was like they were taking advantage of the fact that no one _technically_ had to look at them. They’d been going at it since the damn reception had started and Fiona was suddenly glad that Ian no longer lived at home.

“I think we should be more concerned with getting Ian’s hands surgically removed from that man’s ass. Why don’t you grab me like that anymore Kev?!” V complained.

As if to make matters worse Ian, seemingly oblivious to their audience, slotted his knee between Mickey’s legs bringing him closer with a sharp pull of his hands. They just barely missed the moan that escaped his lips only to be caught by Ian’s mouth. They were ridiculous.

“Hey no foreplay at the reception assholes!” Lip called out.

Mickey merely took Ian’s face in his hand, the other reaching out to flip his new brother-in-law off. Ahhh Family.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“MY ANACONDA DON’T WANT NONE UNLESS YOU GOT MICK’S BUNS HUN!”

Mickey was strapped to Ian’s back as they stumbled into their honeymoon suit drunk off their asses and still holding a nearly full bottle of champagne. In a world of cheesy metaphors and shit one could say they were drunk off love and life, neither of them haven drunken more than three glasses the entire day. Maybe they were just really happy to be together. And if husbands can’t karaoke Nicki Minaj songs together than there really is no hope left for humanity. Ian was in his dark green tux still, Mickey in his navy blue one and they collapsed on the floor spilling shit everywhere but cracking up because it felt so good to be alive, and together.

“Oh shit man I think we just got married.” Mickey chuckled rolling over on top of Ian.

“I think we did. I sent your dad an invite in prison but I guess he couldn’t make it.”

“You’re such a fucking dick.”

They laughed at each other reaching to intertwine their bodies on floor. Though it didn’t happen often they seemed to take their time, with soft, deep kisses and wandering hands. The tuxes quickly got to be annoying so they worked to undress each other only to return to the gentle rhythm they’d established before. Mickey wanted to touch Ian, to feel every part of him beneath his palms. Something about marrying the dickhead made some of his fears melt away. He knew he wasn’t perfect. He knew it might take years, if ever for him to be some lovey dovy gay guy that could walk out in the open and not flinch every time Ian reached to touch him, but when they were alone he felt like he could make progress, could test boundaries to figure out what worked for them.

Tracing was good. He traced Ian’s lips, his eye lids, and throat leaving him to shiver beneath Mickey’s touch. He was kind of beautiful. And Mickey just wanted to spend forever looking at him, and now he could. Ian’s arms wound around him pulling their bodies flush together. He was giving him that smile of his, the goofy genuine one that was way too big for his face. And Mickey couldn’t just not kiss him with that damn smile on his face; it was like a magnetic pull for Christ’s sake.

“I love you.” Ian whispered cupping Mickey’s jaw. “I love you so much.”

And the mixture of heat in his cheeks and his mouth stretching made it all the more difficult to keep himself from melting.

“I love you.”

“Cool. Wanna have sex now?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Or we could do the other thing.”

Ian’s eyebrows perked up in response. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific Mick.”

“Oh for the love of Christ would you come make love to me already and stop talking.”

That goddamn smile came back into place and he knew he was fucked forever.

“There’s my Mickey.”

And then he was being dragged towards some big expensive bed, both of them erupting in giggles because they were together and giddy with love. No one could take that away from them.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“I was thinking that uh since we’re too lazy to put our bed together tonight if maybe you wanted to . . . ya know do what we did for my birthday again?”

Mickey looked up from his Chinese takeout box and smirked at the blatant shyness on the man’s face.

“I’m not going out to buy candles again I burnt the shit out of my fingers.”

Ian just shrugged looking down at their wooden floors and tracing the pattern with a finger.

“Doesn’t have to be candles. The lamp is enough light to see you.” He mumbled.

“You really trying to make me into a sex slave again huh?”

“Fuck off Mickey, just forget it okay?”

“Oh don’t be such a bitch about it, of course we’re gonna do it. You gonna find the toys first though? They’re around here somewhere.”

His scowl was replaced with a smirk, Ian’s eyes brightening at the possibility of the night ahead of them.

“Really?”

“Of course really. We should probably put the mattress up against the couch first too or we’re just gonna slip all over the floor.” Mickey planned already picking up their leftovers and heading for the kitchen.

Ian smiled to himself. Sometimes he thought his sex drive might be too much. His current cocktail of meds kept it on the upper side of the scale, and Mickey never once looked at him like he was crazy. It never took much more than bringing it up for him to get into it, and he never asked Ian to stop or slow down or take a break. He made Ian feel so . . . _stable_. He felt content within his skin. He could fuck with the best of them, and Mickey Milkovich was definitely a part of that group.

He got up stumbling through their boxes of shit and bubble wrap littering on the floor. His fucking husband was in the kitchen of their new house and the excitement coursing through his veins was too much. He was stable, he was okay, and he was fucking happy. And he’d ended up with the man of his dreams in a place where it was alright for them to be together. So he took Mickey’s small cheek in his much bigger hand and pulled him in close to press their lips together softly. He was over the moon with love. Just him and Mickey and nobody else.

Mickey didn’t even hesitate when Ian bent down to pick him up. He’d learned that the disadvantage to being the smaller one in the relationship to a fucking tree is that they can kind of do whatever they want with you, so he chose to embrace it and let him do as he pleased. Plus he really liked the idea of wrapping himself around Ian, legs tightening around his back as their tongues intertwined. That was nice. And then they were fumbling to get situated, Ian refusing to let him go at he kicked their mattress against the couch and reached for lube. Lube was never very far in that house.

“Your last name is like my last name now.” Ian grinned against Mickey’s throat.

Mickey had made the conscious decision to not want to be a part of his father once so ever and eagerly took Ian’s last name. It almost made the price on his art work shoot up because apparently the signature on a piece is more important the piece itself. What the fuck ever.

“Yea I guess it is huh?”

“I can call you Gallagher now. You might have to find some new nicknames.”

He kissed his way down the length of Mickey’s throat skimming his hands along his sides as he went.

“ _Mickey Gallagher._ ” Ian whispered wetly tongue ghosting along Mickey’s waistline.

Mickey moaned arching his hips slightly. “Ian, come on.”

“Shhh I’m trying to fuck my husband I need to concentrate.” He grinned wickedly.

Ian made his way between Mickey’s legs licking his lips at the sight of Mickey’s throbbing member. Pre-cum leaked heavily along the underside of the flesh dripping thickly onto his stomach. His mouth watered at the sight. Fuck his husband was kind of incredibly sexy. Their lips met, tongue ghosting over parted lips as Ian entered him. Out of all the different positions and angles they could do it in, he always loved face to face the best. Nothing was better than getting to see how badly Mickey wanted him, watching how he lost his mind under Ian’s touch. It was the hottest thing he could ever imagine.

“ _Shit_ Ian.” He whimpered.

“It’s just us now Mick. No one can hear you but me. You can be as loud as you want.”

And because Ian was always one to lead by example he swirled his hips, roughly slamming into Mickey with a viscous grunt.

“Fuck Ian!”

From there on it became Mickey holding on for dear life as Ian reached depths in his body he hadn’t been aware existed. It was rough and brutal and he fucking loved it. Ian was holding his hips so firm in his hands, keeping Mickey’s legs opened wide enough so he could fuck him with no interruption. They were loud and happy and moaning at every touch of their bodies. And more than anything Mickey felt free. He was in a house with his name on a deed to it right next to his **husband’s**. His fucking _husband’s_. There was no more looking over his shoulder. No more squeezing his eyes shut to pretend that what they were doing wasn’t intimate and didn’t make him feel good on an emotional level. He could just _be_.

Ian had one arm wrapped possessively around his waist the other supporting his weight as he rocked his hips forward. Mickey would surely always be the best he’d ever had. He wasn’t an acrobat or anything in the sac but he took whatever Ian gave him, and that ass was a work of art. Not to mention for someone so good at masking their emotions he always fell apart in bed. Ian could see what every push of his cock did to him and it was beyond satisfying. His husband was fucking amazing.

“Oh shit—fuck turn over.” Ian gasped flipping Mickey over with ease.

How he could do shit like that without dislodging his dick Mickey would never know but he was always a little too preoccupied to care. Then Ian was sitting directly on his ass forcing him even deeper into Mickey’s hole. He was just heavy enough to make it feel good and Ian was riding him into the fucking mattress, eyes on his ass the entire time, like he was going for Olympic gold. And he’d already begun to feel that familiar tightening in his stomach when he felt a sharp stinging sensation on his right cheek. That asshole had spanked him. And it felt fucking good.

“W—Wait do that again.” He groaned tensing underneath Ian.

It rung in the air, the sweet sound of his palm on Mickey’s  flesh forcing each of them up a glorious wall of no return. It was sweating and spanking and moaning and screaming and name calling. It was the kind of sex they had and they loved every minute of it. It never got old or boring or tiring—though they were usually blissfully exhausted afterwards—and neither of them wanted it any other way.

“I’m gonna cum.” Mickey groaned into the mattress.

“D—Don’t these sheets were a wedding gift from Fiona. Just wait.”

Meanwhile he was still thrusting himself into Mickey like a madman and it did nothing to slow his orgasm.

“uhhhh fuck I can’t, I can’t I gotta—shit IAN!”

His hole tightened around Ian forcing him over the edge as well leaving two sobbing messes withering on the living room floor. They collapsed side by side Mickey flipping onto his back to reveal the ruined sheets beneath him with a smirk.

“You asshole Fiona will kill both of us!” Ian chuckled pulling Mickey back on top of him to avoid the wet spot.

He shrugged. “Who the fuck gives somebody sheets for getting married anyway. She practically begged us to fuck on them. Now hush and cuddle me dammit, I need a rest period before we go again.”

Ian did it happily leaving them to bask in their first afterglow in the new house. It was quite the moment.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

The first time one of them gets sick is absolutely pathetic. Mickey has health insurance for the first time in his life and is too prideful to fucking go to the doctor’s and use it. As usual Ian had left early that day for some pictures in the park for an article he was working on leaving Mickey alone in their big ass house. He woke up and was sure that he’d been hit by a truck, drowned, and then pushed into mud because his entire body ached and he couldn’t breathe for shit a thick sludge keeping his nose clogged. He could barely keep his eyes open, his throat hurt, it was hot as literal and actual hell, and worst of all where in the fuck was his Gallagher??!

Ian was at another shoot when he got the call. His photography had really taken off, and he’d gotten a job at a studio where he got to take pictures all day and put some of his college work to use doing research and writing articles. He was kind of like a journalist, but much more brooding sex dom than a peter parker he’d decided. There were people at his job counting on him to be professional and attentive, but then his phone was going off on the job and it was Anaconda, Mickey’s ringtone, and he couldn’t just not answer it right?

“Hello?”

“Come home.”

And it’s so pathetic and thick and deep that Ian’s not even sure it’s Mickey. He stepped off the side pressing his phone more firmly against his ear straining to hear clearly.

“Mickey? Mick is that you?”

“Yes. Come home Gallagher.” He whined a round of coughing effectively cutting him off.

His Mickey was sick.

“My poor baby. Are you okay?”

“No.” Mickey groaned adding in a sneeze for good measure. “Babe come home.”

That’s all Ian really needs to hear.

Twenty minutes later he bustled through the nearest convenience store he could find entrapping some poor defenseless sales clerk to help him dump anything, from the stuff to cure the common cold to the stuff that damn near cured cancer, into his cart so he could get home and take care of his Mickey. He left with a hundred and twelve dollars less than when he went in, but Mickey never got sick and desperate times called for desperate measures.

He arrived back home with bags hanging off every finger to find the love on his life in a sweaty heap on their couch. Mickey had never looked so devastating in all the time that Ian had known him. Anxiety coursed through Ian as he dropped all the bags to the floor running to get to Mickey who was wrapped in their comforter with heavy hooded eyes.

“Oh Mickey you’re burning up what are you doing out of bed?” Ian mumbled cupping his husband’s red sticky cheeks.

“Took too long to wait for you. Just wanted some of that tea you make. Stairs made me tired.”

Ian’s heart broke every time Mickey had to wheeze to get a word out of his mouth while simultaneously having to breathe through it as well.

“I’m here now I’ve got everything I need to get you feeling better. I think we should take your temperature and then get you into the shower so you can cool down.”

Mickey didn’t argue at all, too tired to do anything but lie limply on the couch as Ian dug through all the bags looking for a thermometer. He still checked him out when he bent over though cause his husband’s ass was a miracle to the world.

“I’m not gonna ask you how much you spent until I’m well enough to kick your ass for it.”

“Hush up and put this under your tongue.”

104\. Ian didn’t know much about the human body besides the basics. And somewhere in the basics he was pretty positive that when a thermometer reads a 104 that that is bad. Like people cook fucking food at that temperature right? Somebody could cook an egg on his Mickey’s forehead and that was a fucking problem. Needless to say he lost his shit a little bit.

“Mickey I think we should take you to the ER. I—I mean this could cause harm to your body. You could—you could die!”

Mickey barely managed to roll his eyes. “Ian I love you to death but you’re one dramatic fucker you know that? Nobody’s dying and nobody’s going to the ER. It’s just a fever alright.”

“Please just let me take you so they can tell me that? Someone with a medical degree.”

“Hell no. Come on man just come baby me for a little while.”

Mickey wouldn’t budge. So Ian just tried to use every tactic he’d seen Fiona inflict on him and his siblings as a kid. He forced Mickey into the tub downstairs keeping the water cold to hopefully help with the fever. He made him homemade soup and tea with honey and whiskey in it. He set up the guest bedroom not wanting Mickey to fall and break his neck trying to get up the steps and decided they’d sleep there for the night. He brought Mickey tissues and a humidifier and Nyquil. He helped Mickey put on boxers on trembling legs and got him fresh sheets and an ice pack and cough drops. He did absolutely everything that he could, because he cared. And because the thought of Mickey not being okay was absolutely horrifying.

The fever broke around midnight that night, but all other symptoms remained in effect. At least he could cuddle him without fearing that Mickey would literally melt in his arms. His fingers were running through dark wet strands of hair looking lovingly at his husband with his adorable red nose and he didn’t know that anything could be that cute.

Mickey sniffled. “Thanks for coming home. Love you.”

“Anything for you.” He assured him kissing at his skin.

His lips were heaven on Mickey’s flushed flesh but he couldn’t bring himself to get Ian sick too.

“Don’t you’ll get sick.”

“Good you can take care of me then. We’ll take care of each other.”

Mickey just sighed pressing himself deeper into his husband’s arms.

“Yea okay.”

 

 

 

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

There are few words in the English language that are more nerve wracking, more sweat-inducing, and maddening when put together than _we need to talk_. Due to Mickey’s romantic history, or lack thereof, he didn’t get the connotation that he was about to be divorced, but still the words couldn’t be good. They’d been the words he heard when his mother had died. The words he’d heard when Mandy had told him she was pregnant and couldn’t afford an abortion on her own. So when Ian Gallagher says those words his first instinct is to run away and cover his ears and scream, “hahaha bitch I can’t hear you” but his legs are short and stumpy and Gallagher’s are long and lethal so he just kind of collapses on their bed and whines instead.  

“Why do we have to talk?! What could we possibly have to talk about, nothing good ever comes out of talking.”

Ian squinted at him his adorable face turning into more of a frown by the second.

“I just wanted to ask you a question Mickey.”  He mumbled eyes on his hands.

“Oh …well then continue if you insist.”

He watches his Ian, a fire warm and bright that burned recklessly in an otherwise cold dark world curl in on himself like a delicate flower. His fear of confrontation turns into some worrisome neediness, just to make sure all is okay in Ian Gallagher’s head and heart. From his position, sprawled out on their bed, he can just barely touch his fingers to Ian’s wrist hang limply in his lap.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

Ian nodded. “Yea. Just I—I kinda need you to do something for me and you’re gonna say no but I need it Mick. I need it so bad it’s really important to me.”

“Jesus Christ what’d you do kill somebody? I haven’t buried a body in years Ian.”

Ian’s eyes widened turning to look over at his husband who was supposed to be a thugmuffin not an actual murderer.

“YOU’VE BURIED A BODY BEFORE?!”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Stop changing the subject jackass what do you want?”

“Jesus.” He mumbled before continuing. “I didn’t know how to ask, and I talked to Laura about it and tried to understand where it could put me as far as my mental health and I just think that I’m never gonna know until I actually do it. So…”

Ian stood up slowly playing with the robe that he almost never used, seeing as Mickey liked to watch him in all his naked glory after a shower, before pulling it off his body altogether. Mickey’s eyes started at his throat where he’d swallowed heavily before making their way down his body. His chest had filled out even more from whatever new workout class he was taking. His shoulders were broad and pale arms seemingly muscled by the veins that ran through them. So much of his skin was out that Mickey assumed at first that he was naked. That was until he made his way to Ian’s v-shape at the base of his hips that should’ve pointed to his cock but was instead pointing to a pair of very small, very tight gold shorts. They gripped and cupped everything so firmly that Mickey automatically shifted where he sat saliva pooling in his mouth.

“Shit Ian.” He mumbled sitting up and automatically reaching for Ian’s hips, their serious conversation long forgotten.

“Mickey try to pay attention here.”

But his fingers were running through Mickey’s hair and he couldn’t take his eyes off those shorts and . . . _shit._ And then as if to make matters worse Ian took it upon himself to straddle his husband on the bed knocking him down so that it was all Ian looming over him sexy and hot and right fucking there.

“I—I’m paying attention. Promise.”

So he began to speak, but as he spoke he began a gentle rocking of his hips, his ass positioned directly over Mickey’s dick. He clearly had ulterior motives, but with Mickey thinking with his dick it was clear that no one really gave a fuck.

“Remember when I was seventeen I was a dancer? Well this was my uniform. I haven’t been to a club since my birthday last year and before that since I quit. I know I always asked you to go because I like to dance, but the truth is I’m terrified of going back. Lisa thinks it could be a trigger, she thinks I shouldn’t go back because that symbolizes a very dark time for me. But I don’t want it to. I wanna be able to dance for my husband, with my husband even if you hate it. I wanna be able to dance and have fun and not get flashbacks of other people touching me. I don’t want those memories. I want your memories; I want your hands on me.”

He ground down a little harder and Mickey bit his lip. This was obviously a serious and deep conversation to be had, but how could anyone focus with their own personal go-go boy dry humping away? Closing his eyes seemed to do little for his boner.

“I understand alright I just . . . you know I don’t like clubs. They’re not my style. I’d rather be at home with you.”

He felt Ian’s fingers tracing his thighs, gripping and rocking down harder. That man was impossible. They found a rhythm Ian’s hips rutting down and Mickey’s bucking up straining for relief. Ian wasn’t gonna let him off the hook though. He liked bringing Mickey to the edge just to stop like it was nothing. It drove him absolutely mad.

“Goddammit Ian no! No keep going.” He grunted desperately, reaching for Ian’s hips forcefully.

Ian remained still. “I want to go to a club Mickey. I want to go with you. I don’t care if it’s for thirty minutes and I have to beat men with a stick to stay away from you I wanna go. I need to go. So I’m gonna make you cum and then you’re gonna go get dressed so we can go. Okay?”

And then, like they were horny teenagers in the back of some shitty beat up car trying to get off, Ian took Mickey to heaven and back. Those gold booty shorts were truly a weapon of mass destruction. The best kind of destruction. The kind of destruction that had you cumming in your jeans underneath your scantily clad husband and nearly biting a whole through your lip when the orgasm hit. In some relationships what Ian did probably had some psychological bullshit theory about how healthy relationships don’t rely on sex to solve problems. As far as Mickey was concerned the best relationships relied on sex to solve problems. Wasn’t it all supposed to be about give and take anyway? You give me this thing I want and I give you this thing you need in return and we’re both happy?

That’s how Mickey Milkovich, now Mickey Gallagher ended up under the rapid flicking hues of blues and reds and yellows with a heavy based techno beat pounding in his sternum. Because he loved his husband, and orgasm or not he’d do just about anything to make him happy.

And he was happy. Ian had been absolutely terrified at first, palms sweating as they made their way into the club. He could feel what his meds were suppressing, could feel the underlying pressure in his mind to lash out and act paranoid reverting back to that side of him that would always exist one way or another. People would rush up against him simply from the close proximity that being in a club brought and he’d had to remind himself to breathe. He was jumpy and nervous and a little scared but… he had Mickey. Mickey’s hand never left his, any fear of being alone or taken advantage of vanished simply from the hand that held his. He finally felt content. And that’s all he’d ever wanted.

Five Jell-O shots and a bit of tequila later had liquid courage thumping through Ian’s veins. He wanted to dance. Pulling Mickey’s hips flush against his he almost felt like a teenager again. And he could imagine a world where he hadn’t been fucked up, hadn’t been so desperate to make somebody see that he wasn’t fucking okay. In a perfect world he could’ve had Mickey so much sooner. Maybe it wouldn’t have been strange fingertips leaving marks on his skin. Maybe he wouldn’t have shaken himself to sleep falling off highs that left bitter tastes on his tongue.  Maybe it would’ve been Mickey. Perfectly and fully Mickey.

The music was pounding heavily in the floor soaking in through Ian’s toes and spreading warmly throughout his chest. Mickey didn’t like to dance but he could grind, and sometimes he would look up at Ian like it was just the two of them and it would make Ian feel so important. Mickey’s arms wound around his neck pulling their bodies flush together, Ian’s knee forcing its way between his legs. The music was so loud they couldn’t hear one another but they could feel the other’s heartbeat. They could feel that pulse pounding between their bodies as they danced. Mickey ground himself against Ian’s thigh leaning closer into his space where he felt comfortable. Alive.

Ian’s hands were gripping the meat of his ass and his fingers were intertwined behind Ian’s head. Theirs tongues were twirling together in weird and intricate ways and those hips . . . God fucking Dammit Mickey’s hips would be the death of him. His movements were sharp and rugged and Ian could feel every pressing of that heat in his pants. His cock jutting against his denim clad thigh. He’d never felt so possessive, so overwhelmed with a need to stake his claim on someone he so clearly already owned. He just needed Mickey. He needed all of him, needed to feel him in his veins so he didn’t have to remember the bitter thoughts of his past. Ian was taking his horror and turning into something softer. He didn’t need to be afraid anymore.

In the end it didn’t really matter. Because he was there and healthy and happy and married. He got to dance with his husband, his everything. He gave Mickey a boner in a sea of gays fishing for something similar, something he already had. He pulled Mickey into a bathroom stall and pounded him into a dirty wall painted over with profanity. And there was no fear to choke him at the end of the night. It was love. A love so strong and miraculous that it made him feel whole in his skin. It felt so good to feel like he was okay. Like who he was, was okay. And with Mickey it was almost like he always had been. Because being with Mickey made it impossible to remember a time where he wasn’t loved. Being with Mickey was love. And that’s all he’d ever really wanted.

*                                                                             *                                                                       *

 

 

It was stupid. Mickey had had a bad day after some critic trashed his latest piece calling it “a piece of crap that his seven year old niece could recreate”. He’d spent the past three hours doing press for youtube, which was like the thing now when it came to interviews, and it had been really annoying even when talking about something he loved. He was angry and tired and ready to go to bed. Ian was in the kitchen cooking dinner when he got home and he just didn’t wanna be bothered with it, any of it.

“Hey. I made lasagna and my famous garlic bread.” Ian smiled. “You hungry?”

“No. I hate lasagna.” He muttered stalking past the wide open kitchen.

“Since when?” Ian and his voice followed him.

“Since now.”

Mickey tugged at the dress shirt and tie he had to wear to the stupid meeting with his manager before interviews. All he wanted was to shower and crawl into bed. But he had this husband that just wasn’t gonna let that happen.

“Rough day?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” He replied dismissively.

“Alright well let’s not talk about it over some dinner. I’ll get you a beer huh?”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

“Mick you gotta eat. Come on I made the garlic bread just the way you like it heavy on the garlic.”

“The fuck did I just say to you Ian?”

“Yea I heard that but you have to eat. Just a little something alright? For me? Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Or you could just leave me alone now.”

“But I’m not going to.”

“Ian.”

“ _Mickey._ ”

“Goddammit Ian!” He exploded. “Just let it go for fuck’s sake!”

“Excuse me? You need to calm the fuck down Mickey I’m not the enemy here.”

“No you’re just the nagging husband who won’t get the fuck off my back. I had a long day and I don’t want your fucking lasagna or your garlic bread alright? Fuck!”

“Fuck you! You think spending eight hours at a shoot with eyes glued to a tiny lens and then spending another three hours after that cooking your ungrateful ass dinner is at the top of the list of things I wanna do? I’m not your fucking house wife alright?! I’m your partner. We’re partners. We’re supposed to be in this shit together you selfish prick. You wanna be some reclusive dickhead by yourself than go right ahead. Fucking starve to death see if I give a fuck.”

Mickey winced as Ian slammed the door to their bedroom with a wild vengeance leaving him alone and hungry. A few seconds later he heard harsh, angry footsteps then the crashing of dishes, which sounded like glass on wood, and another door slamming right after. He’d fucked up. Bad.

He smoked a cigarette, even though Ian had told him how much he didn’t want him smoking in their bedroom anymore, and then smoked another one for good measure. Slowly he stripped himself of his clothes heading straight for the shower which had an amazing water pressure that was practically orgasmic. And of course as the hot water began to soothe his rigid muscles his mind began to wander, and those wandering thoughts centered on how much of an asshole he was.

Ian was always up, if not already at work before Mickey could even think about getting out of bed. He cooked breakfast just about every day. He went for a run with fucking Sammy and never complained that Mickey barely took care of a dog that was supposed to be theirs. And he always cooked dinner. Every single night. Even when he had shoots that went on until midnight he’d feel absolutely terrible about leaving Mickey to fend for himself and would return home with dessert and sloppy blow jobs or something. He did everything for Mickey. And he’d had a bad day, sure, but Ian didn’t deserve the fucking short end of the stick because of it.

He tried to ignore it, because he’d still had a shitty day and he deserved to be grumpy for once. Crawling under the covers he reached for the light switch to cast him into darkness hoping that sleep would follow. It wasn’t even ten minutes later that he came to a not so startling conclusion. He hated fucking sleeping without his Gallagher. The bed was cold, the sheets falling limply at his sides without another body underneath to wrap around him. It was their first fight since before the wedding and it was all because Mickey was a fucking idiot. What a startling plot twist right?

“Goddammit.” He mumbled ripping the sheets off his body.

As to be expected, the dining room floor was covered in broken glass and spilt lasagna.  So he spent the next forty-five minutes of his life cleaning it up and whining to himself about how much faster Ian would’ve been at cleaning it up. Sammy at one point walked past and let out a bark that Mickey was positive sounded like a fucking chuckle. He figured he should probably try and go to bed after that before he lost his fucking mind. But it was useless. Without Ian, and especially knowing why he wasn’t there, Mickey couldn’t sleep so he stayed up chain smoking and staring at the door waiting for any sign of Ian to come home.

He’d been contemplating going out in search of his big pile of ginger when he finally heard the front door creak open. He was out of bed so fast, he almost got whiplash. They met downstairs at the front of the staircase Ian moving away and Mickey scowling at his feet. He knew it was his fault, didn’t hurt any less to have Ian mad at him.

“Thought you were tired.” He mumbled leaning against the wall with arms crossed.

Classic pissed off Gallagher stance.

“Couldn’t sleep. Used to having a furnace beside me.”

He scoffed. “Could’ve turned the heat up or grabbed another blanket.”

“Didn’t want to. Just want you.” Mickey shrugged.

Ian seemed to soften a little bit at that. He could tell Ian wasn’t gonna make a move, shouldn’t have to. It was up to him to fix things between them. He stepped forward slowly, steps firm and deliberate. Ian was looking down with a frown when he wrapped his arms securely around him. Mickey reached up pressing their foreheads together, noses nuzzling softly.

“I’m an asshole. I’m sorry okay?” He murmured.

“Yea. Yea, you really are.”

He smiled weakly. “I’m your asshole though right?”

Ian was never one to pass up a good pun. With a sigh he uncrossed his arms reaching to hold Mickey’s ass instead.

“Figuratively and literally.”

Mickey chuckled incapable of hiding his smirk.

“You wanna come let me literally make it up to you?”

“Well if your asshole is involved wouldn’t that be figuratively?”

“Yea okay professor we can discuss that later come on.” He laughed already tugging him toward their bedroom.

They make up slipping through sweaty sheets and Mickey doesn’t feel cold anymore. It’s slow, but hard as ever. Mickey’s no longer afraid to touch Ian. He takes pleasure in running his fingers along the pale skin of his back, kissing and sucking at the flesh of his neck. He’s got an increasing infatuation with Ian’s ass his hands often staying to it when Ian hits a particularly sensitive spot. It’s amazing just like every time with Ian is. And when it’s over he stumbles down to the kitchen on shaky legs, come still dripping down the backs of his thighs, to heat up the dinner that Ian made. They eat in bed giving each other soft smiles and lingering kisses. Mickey comes to the conclusion that fighting is stupid. But he sure as hell loves making up.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Fiona and Gus come to visit on a Thursday. Mickey was enjoying his day working on a new piece for his next showing. The house was dead silent, Sammy even sleeping at his feet when the bell rang. Their feud had managed to come to an end when Sammy realized he could get Mickey to feed him ifhe begged long enough. They’d lived in the house for about six months and the only time anyone came knocking was to sell something. He was pretty content with ignoring whoever the hell it was, but the persistent fuckers kept ringing the bell until Sammy was up and barking.

“Goddammit.” He grumbled heading for the door.

He opened it up taking in Fiona and her husband with wary eyes.

“What?”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “What do you mean what? Didn’t Ian tell you were coming?”

He vaguely remembered Ian trying to convince him to go on a double date with his older sister, however his tactics had included his ben-wa balls and a little prostate massage action not allowing him to come for so long that when he finally did he blacked out. Needless to say his thoughts on the subject were a little hazy.

“Your brother has a way of getting me to agree to things when my mind is elsewhere.”

She winced. “Spare us the details. Can we come in?”

“Depends . . . where’s my gift?”  He grinned evilly.

She pulled her arm from behind her back to reveal a grade A bottle of Whiskey. They may not have known each other their whole lives but his sister in law sure knew her booze. He reached for it like a baby to a bottle.

“Awfully small isn’t it? Just cause I’m a Gallagher now doesn’t mean I don’t still have the liver of a Milkovich.” He scoffed.

With a smirk Gus pulled out a bottle of his own handing that over to Mickey as well.

“Come on in sis.” He grinned happily.

Without Ian there Mickey was left to give them the grand tour which really was just him pointing in the general direction of each room and grunting. Then he told them were to take their shit and headed back to his studio.

“Ian will want you in the downstairs guest room so have at it.” Mickey called on his way.

“Why downstairs?”

“Uh because our bedroom is on the second floor and we don’t want you listening in or interrupting us when we bang.” He said as if it had been obvious.

Mickey Gallagher. King of subtlety.

By the time Ian arrived back home Mickey had called it quits for the day and hopped in the shower. A smirk fell to his lips when a body slipped in beside him.

“You put them in the downstairs guestroom Mick really?” He chuckled kissing him softly.

He shrugged. “Figured you had some making up to do seeing as I had no idea they were coming.”

“In my defense I did tell you.”

“I was _unconscious_ Ian.”

“Yea I was hoping it’d just get in there somehow.” He smiled patting softly as Mickey’s wet hair.

“Uh huh . . . get on your knees Gallagher.”

It was Ian’s turn to smirk as he quickly complied eyes never leaving his husband’s. With one hand braced against the wall and the other knotting in Ian’s curling hair Mickey sighed in relief. It was sweet warm heaven . . .  for all of the three minutes before Fiona came busting in.

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK FI!”

“Sorry bad Gallagher habit!”

But their shower was all glass and the steam did little the hide their figures within its depths.

“Ewwwwwwww! Oh good that—that my brothers on his knees right now. That’s so fucking disgusting! Okay I’m gonna go now sorry!”

Mickey was more concerned with the fact that her brother was _still_ on his knees sucking away like a goddamn porn star.

“Stop sucking me off when our siblings are in the room dickhead! It’s common fucking sense.”

“Can’t help it. You taste so goddamn good Mick.” He moaned slurping him down again.

He was persistent swallowing Mickey whole with ease. He reached behind him kneading roughly at Mickey’s ass and forcing him deeper into his mouth. It’s so good Mickey has to look away to keep from busting but Ian just won’t have it today. He releases him with a thick plop hand quickly replacing his mouth.

“Uh uh. Look at me Mickey. You like it when I’m on my knees huh? Taking everything you can give I know you do.”

And the shower poured down on them turning Ian’s hair into the frizzy mop Mickey rarely ever go to see and damn if it wasn’t the sexiest thing to ever grace his presence. The sound of the water just barely drowns them out as Ian’s hand began to speed up. He knew how to work Mickey, how tight to squeeze, what angle to twist at, not to mention the point at which to twist on the upward pull. It’s ridiculous. It’s maddening. It—it’s… so fucking good.

“I—Ian I can’t. It’s so good I’m gonna cum.”

His hand got faster still licking at the slit in the head tongue firm with a cocky grin on his lips.

“It’s okay. Come all over my face. Please Mickey? Can you do that for me? I want you to mark me. Ruin my face baby please.”

Mickey swore he’d never understand where Gallagher got that shit from in the heat of the moment but he was damn glad he did. He came instantly, hips rutting into Ian’s hand as it spurted deliciously onto Ian’s face. He ran Mickey’s tip along his cheek making sure it was clean before sitting back on his heels to lick at the treat Mickey had left him. It was on his chin and nose and even in his hair a little bit and it was the most turned on Mickey had been in a while. Jesus.

They got out and got dressed both of them smirking at each other like complete and total idiots. Ian fixed his tie for him because somehow growing up in a house with Terry Milkovich had left little time for learning the skill, then they were off. Six months of marriage had done Ian’s heart good. He was so so in love with Mickey, and his need to express that burned brighter than ever. He repeatedly reached out to hold Mickey’s hand in public, completely ignoring when Mickey would grumble about it because he no longer found a way to pull away. In return Mickey had learned to not make such a big fuss over things all the time. It was easier in New York where no one looked at two guys funny when they held hands. But it was still rough, much to his frustration, to love him so openly. He wasn’t ashamed of Ian, how could he be when he was so good and pure, but old habits die hard right?

Things went smoother when they were in a restaurant at a table, when he could sit and not feel like people were staring at him. Not to mention it was hard to keep his smile under wraps when Ian would start playing with his fingers peering at his ring. Little fucker was way too sappy and Mickey didn’t completely hate it.

“Your fingers are short and stumpy and cute. Like you.” He smirked kissing them playfully.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “They get the job done. Not my fault I somehow ended up married to fucking Slenderman.”

Ian laughed and Mickey loved the sound so much he unintentionally leaned closer.

“You think these get the job done, these are fucking lethal.” He smirked twinkling his fingers in the air.

Mickey grinned over at him before quickly turning away. “Shut the fuck up Gallagher. Fucking alien ass fingers.”

They’d yet to notice Fiona and Gus staring at them, Fiona in particular beaming with heart eyes. She’d also yet to realize they were totally talking about fingering each other’s assholes.

“Give me a kiss and I’ll think about it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yea. I dare you.” Ian smiled leaning in closer to Mickey.

“Milkovichs don’t turn down a dare.”

Mickey leaned in closer.

“That is true.”

“But I’m not a Milkovich anymore.”

Ian released a sound from the back of his throat that could only be described as a combination of a whine, growl, and groan all rolled into one. Mickey found it rather amusing.

“Miiiiiiick.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I gotta feeling Gallaghers don’t turn down dares either though.”

And then he kisses his husband to the sheer delight of his sister in law.

“That’s so fucking cute. Why don’t we do that? Are you taking notes? You should take notes.”

Like an animal retreating to the wild, Mickey shriveled up at the acknowledgement of his affection for Gallagher. Ian was unfortunately used it and tried to counteract the embarrassment by holding Mickey’s hand under the table. It seemed to work well enough.

Gus had some gig or something that night which meant they were both invited, but Ian was waiting to bring it up after Mickey had a drink or two because heaven forbid they end up near a dance floor again. Instead they caught up with Fi. Kevin and V were moving out of the neighborhood as the Alibi became plurals thanks to a good business decisions. Of course Fiona was thinking of doing the same. Debbie was off to college in the fall. Carl had some girlfriend that was keeping him out of juvie. And Liam had somehow managed to end up three grade levels ahead of his class in reading. The Gallaghers had grown up. It wasn’t all scheming and scavenging to survive anymore and something about looking at Fiona with that glint back in his eyes made Ian incredibly happy. Because his big sis fucking deserved to be taken care of for a change and maybe it was finally happening for her.

No one had heard from Frank since the Terry incident and chances were he wasn’t even in the country. All in all things were good, really fucking good on all sides. Ian no longer felt regretful for his own little slice of happiness with Mickey. Everyone had ended up okay. Even Mandy had moved up in her job to running her own bar. She’d also managed to find someone who didn’t put with her shit while still managing to make her feel loved and appreciated and all that shit. The fact that she found that in Svetlana was just the icing on the very gay Milkovich cake. Ian had showed up for a meeting with his boss only to find Mandy in a bit of a compromising position of her own. The sight of Mickey’s face when he brought up the possibility of Svet becoming his sister in law was the most rewarding thing ever. Plus it was the second girl in a row that had jumped ship and switched teams after dating Lip and if that’s not the most amazing thing ever Ian didn’t know what was.

“That wasn’t so bad was it Mr. Gallagher?” Ian grinned later that night when they were alone again in the confines of their bedroom.

“It’s been six months man you gotta give that a rest.” He snickered leaning into Ian’s touch. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Not a chance. Every day that your mine is a day worth celebrating.”

His cheeks turned crimson immediately. Fucking Gallagher.

“Hush.” He mumbled weakly.

“Fine I’ll embarrass you later.” He smiled tilting Mickey’s chin up. “Did I mention I’m ridiculously in love with you?”

“Once or twice. Good thing I love you too huh?” He murmured leaning up on the tips of his toes to kiss Ian.

Ian couldn’t help but think it was the best feeling in the world.

*                                                                                                                *                                                                           *

When Mickey wakes up still wrapped in Ian’s arms he immediately panics. They’d developed a routine, a set regime that kept Ian up and in the game. Mickey never woke up to Ian still being in bed. It was always him crawling back in for morning sex or to simply shake his wet hair out in an obnoxious effort to wake him up. So that morning was terrifying for him. He reached over running his fingers through the matted ginger strands plastered to Ian’s pillow trying to wake him peacefully from sleep.

“Ian. Hey man you gonna get up today?” He murmured nervously.

Ian just huffed pulling Mickey closer. “Don’t think so.”

Which only left Mickey more confused. The last time it had been his meds, he wouldn’t say a word other than to tell Mickey to leave him alone. He’d pushed him away not pulled him closer.

“What’s the matter? You sick?”

Ian opened an eye to peer at his husband who looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue. He could feel the pressure of the sadness trying to press down on him. He could also feel his meds acting like a seal to keep him safe. It meant that the pressure was still there, was still tangible and real, but that it didn’t have to completely devastate him with his illness.

“Should be. Anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and mood stabilizers are keeping it at bay.”

“Yea I don’t know what that means. Explain.” Mickey mumbled worming his way into Ian’s arms and thumbing at the chin on that big ass head of his.

“Means my meds are working. They’re doing exactly what they’re supposed to be doing, but sometimes what would’ve been a really strong episode seeps through. If I wasn’t on my meds I’d probably end up doing something really stupid or dangerous. Right now I kinda just don’t wanna get out of bed. Probably not gonna move a whole lot today.”

“Okay so I should call Laura then right?”

Ian could see Mickey freaking out but something was keeping him from reacting. His meds were numbing him down. He felt lethargic and sloshy, almost sluggish in a way. Nothing hurt his heart like hurting Mickey, nothing made him feel worse about himself than feeling like a burden for the man he’d come to love so much.

“N—No. I’m okay Mick really. Took my meds and everything. Just gotta let it pass.”

Mickey nodded thumbing worriedly at his bottom lip before pressing a chaste kiss to Ian’s forehead. Then he was out of bed, the warmth leaving Ian’s core as if that had been his only source. He hadn’t known he could ever need anyone so badly. He had to wrap his arms around himself just to stop him from reaching out for his husband. It was days like that when he hated his disorder. They were the days when he failed to see that things could be worse because all he could see was the bad, and there wasn’t any moving past that.

“Where you goin’?” He mumbled pathetically.

“Gotta call Lisa, tell her I can’t make it to lunch today. Go back to sleep I’ll make breakfast later yea?”

Mickey watched him get that squiggle between his eyebrows when he scrunched his face up like a little kid. In Ian’s head he was arguing with that part of him, that piece that yelled at him from within saying to let Mickey go, that he was nothing but an inconvenience. He fought with his need to be comforted and reminded that he was loved, and his illness that told him just the opposite.

“You shouldn’t blow off work for me.” He whispered.

His husband just rolled his eyes. “Married you didn’t I? Even asked your gay ass. That mean’s thick and thin and all the good times and especially the bad ones right? So I’m gonna go handle this shit and then I’m gonna make breakfast and we’re just gonna chill. Go to sleep.”

And he expected him to argue; almost wanted him to cause Ian was a scrappy little shit and could never just do what Mickey told him too. But he looked so tired, so out of it and numb that it scared Mickey. Maybe it wasn’t to the extent that he knew it could be, but he just wanted to take care of him. Maybe prevent the inevitable just a little longer.

Ian mumbled an okay and seemed to be asleep before Mickey even closed the door. He took a shaky breath refusing to let the weight of his fear crush him. Ian needed him, and Mickey had shown that there was no limit to what he would go through for him.  Anything that made him feel good, anything that took that burden off his Ian.

He cooked breakfast, eggs and toast because he’d learned that simple foods were better when Ian was going through a rough patch, and called his therapist to check in. She told him he was in no better hands. They hadn’t experienced much with Ian’s mental illness since after Paris thankfully but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his days. Sometimes he went to therapy and things were rough, he had a bad day and he just didn’t want someone prying into his life, but he always came home to Mickey. He always _talked_ to Mickey. So they’d come to the conclusion that unless he was posing an immediate threat to himself or others there was no better place to be then right at home with him.

He canceled lunch, rescheduled his meeting for another day. It really wasn’t all that heroic. His meetings with Lisa were usually to go over boring business shit that he didn’t want to talk about, and he always had to wear pants to his meetings, a requisite that didn’t exist when he was an artist at home. He’d much rather spend the day wrapped up in Ian. So that’s what he did.

They watched Van Damme movies and cuddled, Ian leaning his head on Mickey’s chest and humming contently when Mickey rubbed his fingers through his hair. He didn’t try too hard to get him to smile or make stupid jokes. He just tried to make him comfortable, give him something to keep him mind off the things in his head. And Ian appreciated that more than ever. It meant the world to him to not have to worry about what Mickey thinking of him. It felt like a normal day in bed, it felt right. So he made a mental note to cook Mickey’s favorite meal as soon as he could get out of bed and maybe suck his dick while he ate it. That seemed like the perfect thank you.

The next morning when Ian doesn’t get out of bed Mickey changes his tactic. Dr. Wonder had taught him to give Ian that first day, to let him relax and not stress himself out so much. But day two with no change he had to push him a little bit, try to motivate him which was easier said than done. Ian was used to Mickey cussing him out and being snide and sarcastic, but he couldn’t do that. When Ian was down he was down and he couldn’t be himself until Ian was feeling better.

“You gotta try and get up today for me.” He murmured leaning on Ian’s side of the bed 

Ian grumbled pulling at the blankets. “I can’t.”

“Yea you can. Come on just a shower. You smell like sour milk.”

“Thanks Mick really appreciate that.”

“Ahhh sarcasm. See you’re trying already. Come on we’ll take it slow. Just a shower and if you feel like going back to bed after I’ll let ya.”

Ian rolled over staring at Mickey’s face, eyes locking immediately. He didn’t know what Ian saw there but it must’ve been something good. He nodded softly letting Mickey help him out of bed. Mickey turned the shower on for him and they climbed in together. No sex, no ulterior motives. It was just Mickey scrubbing Ian’s back and trying to be encouraging, trying to be the rock for his rock.

“You’re okay,” He murmured. “I got you.”

Ian kept his arms wrapped around Mickey trying to do as he asked. It was easier once they’d started, once he was out of bed and actually doing something. He could concentrate of the feeling of Mickey washing his back or the warmth of the shower on his skin. It made things . . . a little better. So when they got out of the shower and Mickey brought him clothes to get dressed in he forced himself to eat breakfast even if it was just some toast to go with his meds. Mickey was being oddly affectionate and it didn’t even irritate Ian. In fact he leaned into it.

“’M proud of you ya know that? You’re doing good.” He cooed in Ian’s ear.

Ian shivered pressing himself closer. That’s where he felt most safe, most grounded.

“Thanks. Sucks you gotta put up with me though. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up about that would you? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, there’s nothing I’d rather do than put up with you.”

“Yea?” He asked managing small smile.

Mickey leaned over running his fingers up the back of Ian’s head through the short strands.

“Yea.”

They stared at each other for a second Mickey smiling and wiping the toast crumbs from Ian’s lips as he stared at him fondly. When the days got darker, Mickey was always the shining light that led him back home.

“Mick, kiss me.” He murmured.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “You sure? We don’t have to—”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss your mentally ill husband would ya?”

Mickey rolled his eyes already leaning in.

“You’re a needy little fucker you know that?”

Ian silenced him with a pressing of their lips. He knew. But Mickey would always put up with him anyway. And they both knew that.

*                                                                                                                *                                                                           *

 

 

“UNCLE MICKEY!”

Mickey grunted absorbing the impact as Yevgeny slammed into him. He could barely hold the kid up anymore. The hell had that Russian bitch been feeding him?

“Jesus kid you’re getting big.”

He beamed proudly. “I drink like gallons and gallons of milk a day so I can be as big as Uncle Ian one day.”

“Uncle Ian huh? You don’t want to be strong and big as me?”

“Well I did but Mom said that I’ll be as tall as you by the third grade so I should probably make a more realistic goal.”

“That mother of yours.” He muttered adding on mentally, “ _is a raging cunt_.”

Ian’s loud obnoxious ass laugh just irritated him even more.

“I am of normal height dammit.”

Yev sighed taking Mickey’s cheeks in his hands. “Come on Uncle Mick we don’t need Mama banning you from the house again.”

“Yeaaaaa Uncle Mick.” Ian and Mandy taunted together.

Mickey prompt flipped them off much to Svetlana’s disappointment.

“Mom did you bring my back pack? Wait till you see this it’s awesome.” he assured Mickey.

They’d had an art project at school where they got to pick any artist they wanted and try to replicate one of their pieces. Yev had managed to talk his way into using Mickey insisting that his teacher hadn’t specifically said how well known the artist had to be.

He’d done a piece of a sunset Mickey had painted while Ian had left to find them food on their honeymoon. They hadn’t left the bed in hours and he hadn’t seen the sun in what felt like days. So he went and did something with the travel paints Mandy got him. He remembered the sun just being so bright. Not just that but air was crisper, the palm trees and the sand. The world was brighter and he’d refused to believe that it was for any reason that than him growing a pair and marrying Ian Gallagher. It was one of his favorites.

“Woah you did a great job kid.” He murmured proudly. “You still practicing?

He nodded. “All the time. I got the highest grade in the whole class. My teacher was so happy she said maybe you could come for parent day since I’m the only one without a dad. Would ya?”

That was dangerous territory if he’d ever heard of it. But the thought of Yev wanting him there at all was hard to pass up.

“We’ll see how busy I am that day okay?”

“Okay! Thanks!” He grinned squeezing him tight.

They were just supposed to hang out, eat spaghetti, and relax. Mickey had been stubborn about Svetlana but Ian liked to think they did like each other deep down. (Like way, way, **way** deep down) But he agreed because Yev was like his prodigy or something taking art classes and always calling through Mandy to tell him about whatever new project he’d finished. It was adorable. And once Ian had completely convinced him that being nice to Yev wouldn’t make him demand a kid of his own he happily took over as kind of a masculine figure in his life. Ian too, but Yev only loved ninja turtles, his mother and pizza the way he loved Mickey. It was nice. And seeing two supposed enemies come together because of it was even nicer.

“So if Mom and Mandy got married that’d make her like another mom right?”

Mickey shrugged. “Sure. Yea I guess so.”

“Would you and Uncle Ian be my dads then?”

Everyone stopped and turned to stare at him, Mickey’s hand tightening around the beer bottle before him. Usually Ian would’ve stopped forward and said something or maybe Svetlana but he hadn’t asked them. He’d asked Mickey.

“Uh n—no buddy. We’d be your actual uncles I guess. Nothing would change.”  He explained.

Yev seemed to mull that over twirling his fork in his spaghetti. “How come you guys don’t wanna be my dads? Everyone else gets one.”

“Uh…”

“It’s not that we don’t want to be your dads Yevy,” Ian blissfully interrupted. “it’s just that dads come through marriage, that’s how you get a dad or if he makes you with a woman. And since we didn’t make you and we’re not married to your mom we can’t be your dad. That’s why we’re your Uncles.”

“But that’s not fair! I want a daddy; I want you guys to be my dads.” He complained.

Svet leaned over muttering something into Yevgeny’s ear in Russian that made him keep his eyes on his plate and his mouth shut the rest of the time he hated. Mickey didn’t like that. It reminded him vaguely of Terry. Of being afraid to think a certain way or say what he was thinking. It didn’t sit well with him. A few minutes later Yev pushed his plate away and asked to be excused barely waiting for Svet’s answer before disappearing from the table. Mandy was rubbing comfortingly at her arms as Mickey willed himself to stay in his seat. Like fuck that was gonna work.

“Goddammit I’ll be right back.” He muttered throwing his napkin down.

Yev was in Mickey’s studio forcefully throwing a scrunched up piece of paper from his backpack at the wall when Mickey found him. The anger and disappointment was etched into the scowl on his face and it had Mickey thinking they were even more alike than he thought. He picked up the crumpled paper and sat beside Yev on the floor who was wiping angrily at tears to hide them. It was a picture of some stick people—pretty fucking good for a seven year old—and they were all holding hands with names above their heads. Svetlana. Aunt Mandy. Uncle Ian. Uncle Mickey. It didn’t take much to figure out what was missing.

“They made fun of me.” He admitted quietly glaring angrily at the floor.

“Who did?”

“The boys at school. They said I can only have two parents. A mom and dad. I told them what mom told me. That my dad didn’t deserve me because he was a bad guy. They said my dad just didn’t want me because I paint and color instead of play basketball at recess. I thought that . . . they’d stop making fun of me if I had two moms and two dads. But they were right  . . .  no one wants me.”

Tears were ripping over his cheeks and Mickey winced feeling the familiar pangs of hurt that seeing someone he cared about upset caused.

“Hey don’t say that.” Mickey insisted firmly, nudging him with his shoulder. “Your mom loves you kid, and she’d do anything to make you happy. Your dad was a piece of shit more interested in hurting you and your mom than loving you. It’s got nothing to do with you Yev, that shit’s on him you hear me? My old man probably would’ve done the same if my mom hadn’t died. I would’ve been better off, instead he just beat on me and my brothers and your aunt Mandy. Now you’ve got your mom, you’ve got Mandy. You’ve got Ian, and you’ve got me and we’re not going anywhere regardless of some title. I promise you that. We’re family. If you need something or someone or just wanna talk you know where I live. You’re never unwanted Yevgeny, never.”

Yev’s face was hidden in Mickey’s shirt tears soaking heavily through the fabric. He hid his sniffles even when he reached to throw his arms around Mickey’s neck hugging him tightly. He hugged back in spite of himself, not wanting the kid to be sad. He’d grown to love Yevgeny. It was a bond they’d built over ninja turtles and drawings and pastels. Maybe he wasn’t his son, and Mickey would never be Yevgeny’s dad but he would _always_ take care of Yev. Always.

“Uncle Mick?” Yev sniffled into his chest.

“Yea kid?”

“That’s two more dollars in the swear jar.”

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“Mickey I am not high enough for this. My ass is cramping!”

“Shut the fuck up man you know I like to take my time with your eyes.” He laughed happily, eyes bright.

“So you use my medical weed card to get some grade A shit. You bring me a whole pizza from our place for myself. You ride me into our mattress so hard it now permanently squeaks when we sit on it. And then when I’m ready to sleep for a week or two you drag me out of my very comfortable squeaky bed at five in the morning after three very good rounds in the sac might I add, so you can paint me naked _again_?”

“Sounds about right to me. I’m feeling nostalgic tonight _honey_ let me be.” He sneered.

He looked at his painting and frowned quickly slipping off his stool to go and tug at Ian’s hair. Thanks to weed and pizza on his day off Ian hadn’t gotten the chance to fix it into his usual tamed do leaving his curls wild and beautiful. Mickey loved those curls almost as much as he loved beer. Almost.

“Don’t move.” He whispered smiling at his ridiculous beautiful husband as he tugged at the curls making them much more prominent atop his head. “Love you like this.”

“Yea?” Ian blushed.

Mickey ran his eyes over Ian taking in the man before him. There were bite marks on his shoulders where Mickey had tried to silence himself through an orgasm. He had marks on his hips from months and months of gripping that hadn’t faded. Deep purplish bruises were dusted across his skin. Scratches that had broken skin, crescent moon shape dips in his thighs where Mickey had struggled to ground himself. They were battle wounds from love. Acts of affection literally marked across his flesh.

Those lips, a deep ruby red, engorged and swollen where Mickey had licked and bit them. Freckles. They were hidden among the milky paleness of Ian’s body but they were there, he could see them, and they were beautiful. Beautiful and wonderful and absolutely Mickey’s. He loved him so harshly, so recklessly. He’d given him everything and Ian hadn’t broken him in the end. He’d rebuilt him. He’d loved him harder and harder every single day. Mickey had taken him into his heart and into his soul and Ian had made him better before it. So yea he loved him. He loved the fuck out of him.

“Mhm.” He nodded licked his lips.

He reached for Ian’s hips pulling their bodies flush against each other.

“Mick I thought I had to stay still?”

“Don’t want you too anymore.” He said still eyeing Ian warmly.

“Well what are you looking at?”

“You Freckles.” He rolled his eyes reading to cup Ian’s jaw lightly. “I love you.”

“Yea?” He smiled working his arms around Mickey’s waist.

“Yea.”

“I love you too . . . . Thugmuffin.”

“GODDAMMIT GALLAGHER!”

So it’d been a year. Maybe it’d been two altogether. They’d run back and forth and went through enough shit to make any normal person tired. But both of them were wide awake. They loved and they loved hard, neither of them waiting for the other shoe to drop anymore. It was just life happening a day at a time, but something about being together made it feel like so much more than that. No more demons. No more running. Just an artist and a model, who liked to take pictures, loving each other through everything that the world could throw at them. And damn if they weren’t up for the challenge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am surprisingly like a little bit emotional with posting this. I know it's my first fic for the fandom but i genuinely had so much fun writing these characters and creating a world where Mickey and Ian could kind of learn to be free together without too much impending doom hanging over their heads. And the response was absolutely ridiculous. Over 16k reads? I was expecting 2 tbh. But thank you all for your comments and your criticism and your love for this story i appreciate it so fucking much and i will continue to write for Ian and Mickey cause someone's gotta right terrible angst and porn since the writers refuse to fucking doing it right? So if you only subscribed to the story or maybe didn't subscribe at all a subscription to my page thingy(I don't really know how it works) would be much appreciated. I've got a big bang fic in the works, a prompt started, two ideas for more AUs, and i may have started new fic after i finished my final today. School is almost over so hopefully i'll have even more time to right. 
> 
> Again thank you all so much and i really hope you enjoyed the story. This last chapter was so fucking fun to write so i hope you enjoy reading it. So comment and tell me you love it so we can hold on to these characters a little longer. I'm not crying you're crying!
> 
> P.S I feel the need to mention that the suits or tuxes or whatever that they each where for wedding are https://36.media.tumblr.com/dcc53cc8b2009e3cf5046d18c20bb7ae/tumblr_ncllk0D1nl1tdmal0o1_500.jpg this one for Ian  
> and http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/08/14/article-2724573-203ABF7700000578-879_634x869.jpg this one for Mickey but you know like without the wife on his arm xD

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written Gallavich in my entire life and this is something i completely started as fun, but i have multiple chapters written so i thought i'd put it out into the world. Critique and comments are welcomed. you can find me here http://zankiefanatic.tumblr.com/ come say hi


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